


The Holiday

by gubernaculum



Series: The Namesakes [6]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:12:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 72,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gubernaculum/pseuds/gubernaculum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The new Torchwood technician goes on holiday. There is no alien strangeness or Torchwood in this fic. It's purely an interlude type of piece and contains only my original characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. I'm only borrowing everything purely for non-profit and completely recreational purposes. The characters of Miranda Ryan, Joseph Fischer, Henry Fitzroy, Ethan Donovan, Aaron Reynolds, and Ashley Greenfield are my own. I have cast them as Zhang Ziyi, Jesse Spencer, Alex Pettyfer, Ben Affleck (a much older Good Will Hunting version), Alexander Skarsgard and Julia Stiles respectively. The idea for using Henry Fitzroy as a character came from [Helen Pattskyn](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/605536/Helen_Pattskyn)'s multi-crossover AU since Fitzroy's place in history fits my original character, Miranda Ryan's own personal timeline. My Henry Fitzroy is a character all my own and is not based on her character nor the TV show hers is from. I will admit that I liked the idea of Fitzroy being an artist so I did the same.

After an agonisingly long flight that stopped in Amsterdam and Calgary, Fish finally stepped off the plane in Vancouver. He smiled politely at the attendant as he left the gate. Even though he was bursting with impatience and excitement, he walked slowly, limping a bit. His knee had grown stiff from hours of sitting on the plane. Miranda had instructed him to get up and walk every few hours, but it hadn't helped much. He followed the signs leading him through customs and immigration, easily passing through with his Torchwood credentials. He followed more signs directing him to the baggage claim area. Even though it was his first holiday since joining Torchwood, he felt a bit guilty as he walked along. 

Fish had monitored the rift predictor program carefully over the past few months, trying to time his trip for when the rift would be quiet. He'd pushed off the date twice, but Miranda and Jack had dragged him aside one day. They'd pronounced him unbearable and told him that if he didn't get his arse to Vancouver, they'd toss him into the rift. So Fish had scheduled his flight regardless of what the rift predictor had said and tried to keep it short. He'd be here barely a week. He'd timed it so it would coincide with the opening reception of Henry's art show. It was too early to catch Henry's mid-June birthday, but it was close enough to have a go at celebrating anyway. 

Impatiently, he tapped his foot, watching random luggage as it passed him on the carousel. Finally, he spotted his large black case and heaved it up, grateful the airline hadn't lost it. Henry's extremely hard to select birthday present was inside. It was immediately followed by his garment bag. He shouldered the bag and wheeled his case out of the baggage area, his heart beginning to pound in his chest. The motion sensor glass doors opened and Fish stepped through, scanning the small crowd for Henry. It had been over two months since they’d seen each other. 

"Joe!" Henry cried as he bolted into the walkway. 

"Henry!" Fish shouted. He waved his arm and started wheeling his case towards him. 

Henry collided with him, wrapping his arms around his lover and spinning him so hard that his feet lifted off the ground. Fish dropped the garment bag and the two of them kissed deep and long. He tightened his arms around Henry, burying his face in his lover's shoulder and fighting back tears of joy and relief. 

"I missed you so much," Fish said. His unsteady voice was muffled by Henry's jacket. He could barely breath Henry was hugging him so tightly. 

"I missed you too. I love you," Henry said. The immortal man's face was buried in Fish's neck. 

"Love you too. I love you so much," Fish said, letting out a small dry sob. 

The two men stood there, clinging to each other. An inpatient throat clear behind them interrupted the joyous reunion. They turned simultaneously to see a rather stern looking woman glaring at them. 

"My apologies, ma'am," Henry said with a crooked smile. They assumed the reason for her annoyance was their blocking the passage of other travelers. He shifted Fish and himself out of her way and bent down for the handle of Fish's case. Fish also knelt to pick up the dropped garment bag. When Henry stood up, he stared into Fish's hazel eyes, ran his hand down his cheek and kissed him one more time. The annoyed woman clicked her tongue at them. 

Fish narrowed his eyes at her, realising the true reason for her displeasure. Out of the corner of his eye, Fish could see other people staring at them. This was his first same sex relationship and while it had been going on for over two months, most of it had been conducted privately. Fish had seen the stares and insults occasionally hurled at Jack and Ianto in public. Now the narrow-mindedness was directed at him and Henry and he hated it just as much.  

"You want to say something, say it," he challenged.  

The woman looked shocked at having been confronted and Henry steered Fish away. 

"Ignore her, Joe," he said softly. "Let's get you home. I'm not parked far."

Fish took a deep breath and turned his attention back to Henry. Henry was the reason he was here. He shrugged off the woman and her continued glare. With his arm around Henry, they stepped out of the airport. A light rain was falling. They walked towards Henry's car and loaded his case into the boot. Fish laid his garment bag across the back seat. 

"I'm sorry about back there," he said as he got into the passenger seat. He shook the rain water from his hair. 

"Don't apologise, Joe," Henry said, starting the car. He started to drive out of the airport and reached for Fish's hand. "I understand that this is not something to which you are accustomed."

"I know I shouldn't let it get to me. You're used to things being so much worse," Fish said, shaking his head. 

“Just because we won't be executed or jailed doesn't make the prejudice any easier," Henry said. 

Fish brought Henry's hand to his lips, kissing the back. He took another deep breath, trying to shake off the negativity. Things were getting off on the wrong foot.

"Feels like Cardiff, the rain," Fish chuckled. 

Henry smiled. "There wasn't any rain in the forecast. I'm pleased your flight wasn't delayed. How was it, Joe?" 

"Bloody long," Fish said with a sigh. "Cramped fucking seats…" 

Henry said, "I told you I could upgrade your ticket-" 

"Yes, and I said no, I should have listened to you," Fish conceded. 

It had been a small argument before the trip. Henry had wanted to pay for a first class ticket because of his lover's troublesome knee. Fish had insisting on paying for the entire flight himself. It was one of the reasons he was arriving on a damp Tuesday night, the ticket price had been significantly less. The moment he'd walked passed the first class compartment, he'd wished he'd allowed his lover to spoil him. Henry lifted Fish's hand and brushed his lips across the knuckles, barely touching them. 

"I'm just glad you're finally here," he said, his breath warm on Fish's hand. 

Fish felt his breath hitch in his throat. Henry had this uncanny ability to make him exist in the moment. The annoying woman and the stares were forgotten. The ache in his knee was forgotten. He squeezed Henry's hand, a genuine smile breaking out on his face. 

"I can't tell you how happy I am to see you," Fish said, his voice unsteady. 

Henry squeezed Fish's hand. "Me too." 

"I've never been to Canada,” Fish said as he looked out passenger window which was now on the other side of the car. He'd gotten used to the right drive cars of the UK and felt a bit like he was sitting on the wrong side. It was nearly midnight and the city was lit in an orange glow. In the dim light, Fish could see Henry's eyes sparkling. Fish dipped his head to look out the windscreen at the city. He swiveled his head, his eyes landing on Henry's neck. The street lights almost made the skin glow, casting a shadow along the hollow of Henry's throat. Fish felt his heart beat a little faster as desire started to well up in his belly. 

"I'll take you on a tour. Vancouver is a beautiful city," Henry said. "I live down by the water."

"Why did you decide to move here?" Fish asked, trying to distract himself with small talk. 

"It was a random decision. I'd never lived in Canada before," Henry said with a shrug. Henry's thumb swirled along the back of Fish's hand and Fish swallowed as his throat went dry. 

"Where were you living in America?" Fish asked, still trying to distract himself. 

"New York," Henry said, smiling. He let go of Fish's hand and rested his hand on Fish's knee. 

 _Drive faster…_ Fish shifted in his seat, taking advantage of a moment when Henry looked over his shoulder to check his blind spot to adjust himself in his jeans. "Were you there for university? You said you went to the School of Visual Arts." 

"I went there in the sixties," Henry said. He turned a corner and changed lanes. "I left New York in the early nineties. Here we are, Joe." 

Fish leaned close to the window, looking up at the modern high rise. It slipped away from view as Henry pulled into the underground car park. He parked in his assigned space and got out. H heaved Fish's case from the boot and Fish slid his garment bag out from the back seat. Hand in hand, they walked to the lift. Fish raised an eyebrow as Henry inserted a key next to the lift button for the top floor. He turned the key and pressed the button. Fish snaked his arm around Henry's waist. He hooked his thumb into the waistband of Henry's jeans, tugging him close. 

"The penthouse? Very posh, Henry," Fish chided. "What's the key for?" 

"Security purposes," Henry said. "There are only two apartments on the top floor. Mine and my neighbor. He is some sort of television actor. The apartment is vacant right now. I believe he and his family only return to the city for filming." 

"What show?" Fish asked. 

"I don't know, not something I watch," Henry said with a shrug. "He told me the name once but I don't remember." 

Fish only nodded. He looked up when the lift opened, surprised. There was no hallway, only a small vestibule with two doors. Henry unlocked the door to their right and led Fish inside. 

"Make yourself at home, Joe," Henry said as he tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter. He flipped on all the lights. 

Fish's jaw dropped at the beautiful view. Through the floor to ceiling windows, he could see the harbor. The moon and the street lights were sparkling across the water. The apartment itself was quite large with an open floor plan. Fish's entire flat could’ve fit inside the lounge alone. The furniture was of a modern, trendy style that surprised Fish. There were several paintings on the walls. The apartment seemed devoid of any other personal touches. There were no photographs or mementos and Fish realised Henry probably had to censor what he displayed. 

Henry came up behind him, his arms encircling his waist and his body pressed into his back. He kissed along the back of Fish's neck and down onto his shoulder, pulling aside the collar of Fish's shirt to reach the skin. Fish felt his knees threaten to give way as Henry latched his mouth on the crook of his neck. He swirled his tongue over the skin, sucking gently. Fish's eyes slid closed and he couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips. He was amazed they'd managed to wait this long. He'd wanted to pounce on Henry from the moment he'd seen him. The anticipation had built up the entire drive to the apartment. In the lift up, Fish had wanted nothing more than to sink to his knees in front of his lover but he'd held back, waiting for privacy. 

"Are you tired, Joe?" he asked, his voice low. 

"Completely knackered but never for you," he said eagerly. 

Fish whirled around and kissed Henry deeply, pressing the other man into him. Henry broke their kiss only to tear off his coat and rip his jumper up over his head. He dropped both pieces of clothing unceremoniously to the floor. 

"Bedroom?" Fish asked. He removed his own shirt, tossing it on the growing pile of clothing. 

“Too far," Henry said urgently. 

He dragged Fish towards the sofa and pinned him to it. Fish screamed as Henry latched his mouth on his nipple, sucking hard and swirling his tongue again. Henry pressed the palm of his hand into Fish's erection straining against his jeans and Fish let out a low moan. 

"Yeah, too far," Fish laughed as he dragged Henry up for another kiss and so he could attack Henry's belt. 

Henry undid Fish's jeans and sat up, practically ripping them from Fish's body. He pushed his own trousers and pants down to his ankles and then kicked them away as he dove back down onto the sofa. 

"You know a naked man wearing socks is never sexy," Fish joked. 

"You could be doing better things with your mouth than talking," Henry scolded with a laugh. He yanked off the socks and then leaned in for a kiss, pressing his hips into Fish's, their erections sliding together. 

Fish threw his head back and shouted at the jolt of pleasure shot through his spine. Henry continued to thrust against him, sliding their erections together. He slid his hands down Henry's sides, digging his fingers into the other man's arse to pull him into him faster and harder. 

"Oh God, you feel so good…" Fish said, hoarsely. 

"Joe… I love you…” Henry whispered into his ear. 

“I love you too.” Fish reached up and twined his fingers with Henry's. He brought their joined hands down between them, wrapping them around their erections. The two men thrust into the channel created by their hands. Fish moved his hips in time with Henry's and each movement sent shocks up his spine as he felt his whole body begin to tremble. 

"Fuck… yes… Oh God…" Fish whispered on a husky voice. 

Henry wrapped his free hand around Fish's neck, the two men kissing deeply. 

"I love you, Joe," Henry whispered into his mouth. 

"I love you too," Fish replied and then threw his head back and moaned. "Oh God… I missed this… missed you…” 

Henry buried his face in Fish's neck, sucking a mark up on his shoulder. The two men sped their movements. Over two months of pent up sexual frustration was finally being released and this was going to be over very quickly. Henry's moans grew louder and his rhythm erratic. Fish could feel the muscles of Henry's thighs trembling against his. 

"Joe… I'm… I can't…" Henry said, leaning his forehead against Fish's. 

"Me too… oh God…" Fish said, his eyes sliding closed. "Oh! Oh, fuck, Henry! I'm…! FUCK!" 

"JOE!" Henry screamed. 

Simultaneously the two men roared out their completion, their cocks both spurting, wildly sending ropes of hot come up across their bellies and chests. One of the spurts from Henry's cock arched high enough to land on Fish's mouth and chin, the rest smearing and combining with Fish's.

Trembling, Henry let go of their wilting erections and gripped Fish's, gently stroking him, smiling as each movement of his hand made Fish convulse. Fish mimicked him, pleased to elicit the same reaction from Henry. He licked his lips, tasting the come on his face and breathing in the scent of Henry and sex. With a smile, Henry reached up, wiping the come away from Fish's chin with his finger. Before Henry had a chance to move his hand, Fish dipped his head forward, capturing the finger in his mouth, sucking hard and swirling his tongue around the digit. Henry's eyes darkened. He let out a low groan and shivered then yanked his finger from Fish's mouth to kiss the other man deeply. When the kiss broke, they clung to each other. 

Fish felt tears prickling his eyes. Now that Henry was finally in his arms, he was realising how much of his heart had been missing. Now, laying in Henry's arms, he felt like he was healing. He buried his face in the crook of Henry's neck, unable to stop the tears leaking from his eyes. 

"I've missed you so much," Fish said, unsteady. He stamped back the sadness that he was only here for a short while and then he would be without Henry again. 

“And I you, Joe. I’m so glad you’re here,” Henry said. He pushed between Fish and the sofa, encircling him completely. He squeezed hard and buried his own face into Fish's neck. After a few minutes, Henry let go of Fish and lifted his head. "Let's get cleaned up. I know it's late and you must be exhausted." 

"I'm starved too," Fish said. "My lay overs were short. All I've had is a few packets of peanuts and some crisps." 

"Let's get you something more substantial and into bed, love," Henry said as he got up off the sofa. He walked towards the kitchen. Fish heard the sound of the tap and the paper towel roll. 

Fish turned his head to the side and his eyes went wide. They hadn't closed the blinds. "I guess we put a show on for anyone with a pair of binoculars." 

Henry chuckled, “Or a camera phone. Perhaps it will end up on PornHub.”

"Oi!" Fish said. "Don't even joke!"


	2. Chapter 2

Fish’s exhaustion and his tendency to want to fall asleep after orgasm had taken over. After their romp, he’d chewed a cold chicken leg and collapsed into bed. He barely remembered mumbling a goodnight to Henry before falling into a deep coma-like sleep. He had no idea what time it was now, early he guessed, as he blinked against the morning light. The mattress was sinfully comfortable. Fish had always thought one mattress was just as good as the next one so he'd always purchased something modest, rolling his eyes at bit at the expensive memory foam. But one night on that memory foam was changing his mind. He rolled, his eyes settling on Henry's sleeping form next to him. 

This was the first time he'd woken up before the immortal man. Normally, Henry was an early riser so he could practice the sword or exercise. He watched Henry sleep, a smile playing on his face. The room was bright and Henry was sprawled out on his back, an arm thrown over his face to protect his eyes from the light streaming into the room. His hair stuck out in all different directions. In sleep, Henry looked very much like a teenager-something that still made Fish a little uncomfortable. Catching sight of the grey strands made him feel a little better even though he knew they were fake. Henry’s head was tilted back and his mouth hung open. There were pillow creases on his cheek and a small bit of drool at the corner of his mouth. Fish felt a gush of affection and love. 

A wicked grin came over his face as he pushed the blankets down off Henry's body, revealing the lightly haired chest and belly. He tugged the blankets down lower to reveal Henry's morning erection, straining against the loose cotton of his pyjama bottoms. Fish moved slowly, not wanting to wake his lover. He had a much better idea of how to do that. 

Fish reached over and carefully undid the snap of the pjyama bottoms' flies and spread the flies of his boxers. He gently eased Henry's mostly hard cock through both openings. Licking his lips in anticipation, Fish leaned over. He'd been dreaming about this for months. He grasped the firm flesh, gently pushing back the foreskin. He wrapped his lips around the head of Henry's cock, swirling his tongue around the glans gently. He kept his movements slow, relishing the taste of the skin under his lips and the fullness. Fish took the whole of Henry's cock into his mouth, his nose gently brushing the curls at the base when he felt fingers twine in his hair and Henry's hips thrust up slightly. Henry didn't speak, just let out a low breathy moan. Disappointed with the lack of reaction, Fish applied firm pressure with his lips and swirled his tongue, sucking hard. 

"Oh God…" Henry cried, his hand fisting tighter in Fish's hair, thrusting his hips upward. 

Smiling a bit with Henry's cock between his lips and then continued to work it with his mouth. Fish brought his hand up between Henry's legs, gently massaging and tugging at his balls and he heard Henry's breath hitch in his throat. He let his fingers drift backwards, pressing firmly into Henry's perineum and his lover let out another shout. Henry bent his knees and spread his legs wider, giving Fish easier access. Fish relaxed his throat and sucked hard, feeling Henry's cock strike the back of his throat and slide down. 

"Joe!" he screamed as his legs started to tremble. "Joe… yes… Yes… YES! AH!"

Fish felt Henry's cock swell slightly and then it began to spasm, shooting thick jets of come. Fish didn't move, only held Henry in his mouth as his tongue slid along the skin. The only thrusting was Henry's hips, involuntarily pumping up and down as his whole body jerked along with his climax. Fish swallowed him down, sliding his mouth over Henry a few more times, swirling his tongue. Each time he took Henry into his mouth fully, he breathed deep, his eyes rolling back in his head as he breathed in Henry's scent, the real thing so much better than his memory or his dreams. He relished the taste of Henry's skin and come thinking, _He tastes so good…_  

"Good morning," Henry said, running his hands up and down Fish's back. "That was far more pleasant than my alarm clock." 

"Morning," Fish said. He ran his fingers through Henry's hair and kissed him. 

Fish slid off of Henry, laying on his side to face him. He ran his fingers through the hair on Henry's chest. 

"Shower?" he asked. 

Henry pushed Fish onto his back, snaking his hand down to stroke Fish gently. "I thought I'd take care of this first." 

"I didn't say we'd be just be showering," Fish said, tossing his lover an evil grin and bolting off the bed. 

Henry laughed, rolling out of bed himself. He tossed his boxers and pyjama bottoms aside. He jogged towards the washroom and Fish was already in the shower, standing under the hot spray. Henry opened the stall door and stepped in. He grabbed the soap and started to lather it across Fish's body as he attacked Fish's neck with his mouth. Fish found himself pressed against the stone tiles of the wall with his eyes rolling back into his head as Henry grasped his erection with a soapy hand. 

"Oh God," Fish gasped as his head hit the tile with a dull thud. His breath hitched in his throat. Henry's long slim fingers were talented. Smiling, he pressed himself into Fish, his own erection brushing against his lover's.

"I love you," he whispered into Fish's ear and then sucked the lobe. 

"I love you too," Fish replied, dipping his own head to suck on Henry's wet shoulder. 

Henry reached around his back, taking Fish's hand in his and guiding it between them. The two men thrust into their joined hands, their hard cocks sliding against each other with their faces buried in the crooks of each other's necks. With his free hand, Fish pulled Henry into him as close as their movements would allow. He continued to move his hand, panting and moaning as each movement sent waves of dizzying pleasure through him. The two men shuddered as they moved, thrusting their hips and sliding their hands over their two hard cocks squeezed together. Fish felt his orgasm beginning to coalesce in his belly as his balls tightened and drew up. Fish's shoulders began to tremble and he sped his movements. 

"I'm so close, Henry," Fish whispered, his voice a bit muffled by Henry's shoulder and the sound of the shower spray. 

Henry increased the pressure of his hand and pumped his hand faster. "Oh… Joe…"

With a wordless shout, Henry came, his cock fountaining come up and onto their joined hands just as Fish gave one last hard thrust of his hips and screamed. His whole body went rigid as he came, his cock shot jet after jet of hot come up onto their bellies and chests, immediately rinsed away by the cascading water. Trembling slightly, he wrapped both of his arms around Henry, kissing his shoulders and neck. 

"What a perfect start to our day," Henry said softly. 

Fish smiled, kissing Henry gently. If this was the only way he and Henry spent this entire holiday, he certainly wouldn't have a problem with it, but the two of them spent the rest of the shower just getting clean. Once they'd finished in the washroom, Fish walked into the bedroom naked, heaving his case onto the bed while Henry headed into his walk in closet with the towel around his waist. Fish started rummaging in his cases for his clothes. 

"I'm sorry, Joe, I forgot to tell you last night," Henry said as he walked back out of the closet half dressed. He crossed the room and opened up some of the dresser drawers. "I cleared these out for you." 

Fish's heart warmed at the thoughtfulness. "I'm barely going to be here a week, Henry. You didn't have to clear drawers out for me."

"My home is yours, Joe," Henry said. "I've also had keys made for you. They're in the kitchen." 

"Thanks, Henry," Fish said, smiling. 

Henry gave Fish a chaste kiss and then went back into the walk in closet to finish getting dressed. "Do you want me to take your suit out of this garment bag, Joe? So it can air?" 

"Please," Fish called back. He started unpacking his things into the drawers Henry had cleared for him. He glanced over his shoulder, ensuring Henry was still inside the walk in closet so he could check Henry's birthday present. Fish was complete and utter rubbish at wrapping gifts. Normally, he'd just buy a gift bag and some tissue paper, but he'd always felt it was a little bit of a cop out. It had taken half a roll of tape, two rolls of paper and over an hour but he'd gotten Henry's gift wrapped. He'd been terrified the wrapping would get damaged in his case, but it was fine. Relieved, he put the present away. He prayed Henry wouldn't go snooping, but his boyfriend didn't seem the snooping sort. 

"Blast," Henry muttered. 

"Henry? You okay in there?" Fish asked, raising his head. 

"Your suit is damaged, Joe. It's stuck in the zipper. I can't get this blasted bag open," Henry said. 

"What?!" Fish shouted. He walked into the closet and examined the bag. Henry had managed to get the zipper open down most of the side but the arm of the suit jacket was clearly caught, ripped and frayed. "Bugger! I thought the zipper was just sticking!" 

"I don't think it was just the zipper. It looks like it was caught on something when it was stowed in the plane," Henry said. He was pulling at the zipper, scrunching his face with effort. "Perhaps it can be repaired. Hold this end, Joe." 

"Fuck all! Why is it always so bloody easy to get a zipper stuck but so bloody impossible to get it _un_ stuck!?" Fish cursed. 

"You're the engineer…" Henry teased and Fish shot him a glare. 

It took some time, but they both managed to free the sleeve although they ended up causing more damage. Henry was holding the suit up, giving it a once over. "Is this the only suit you brought with you, Joe?" 

"It's the only one I own," Fish said with a nod.  

Henry raised his eyebrow. "You only own one suit?" 

"Oi, don't you start in on me too. I get enough of that bollocks from Ianto," Fish said. He looked around Henry's rather full closet. His lover could easily compete with Ianto Jones. Fish had no idea how Ianto fit all his clothes in that bunker he shared with Jack. "Well, I guess I know one thing we're going to have to do this week-go shopping." 

"When did you buy this, Joe?" Henry asked, squinting his eyes. "It's quite faded and the cut is outdated."  

 _Oh here it comes…_ "Back in oh two." 

Henry raised his eyebrows. "That was ten years ago." 

"I chase aliens for a living, Henry," Fish said, annoyed. "Ianto's the man in the suit." 

"We'll get you something," Henry said and Fish nodded.

He went back out into the bedroom to finish unpacking and getting dressed. Henry's tone worried Fish and he couldn't stop the rueful smile. Ianto had taken Fish on a few shopping trips and they'd been disasters. Usually, Ianto ended up talking Fish into clothing he never wore because they were too expensive to be ruined chasing after aliens. Then again, he couldn't fault Ianto's taste. One of the outfits Ianto had selected for him was what he'd worn on his first date with Henry. 

Fish finished getting dressed, sitting on the end of the bed. He leaned forward to put his socks on. The bed dipped next to him and he turned at the unfamiliar sensation. Henry was sitting next to him, putting on his own socks. Fish smiled, his heart swelling. _Christ, I'm such a bloody girl…_ Of course, he'd been in Vancouver less than twenty four hours, but he was well over the moon. 

Dressed and ready for their day, the two men went about fixing breakfast. Actually, Henry went about fixing breakfast while Fish laid the table. Fish had offered, but confessed he'd likely burn or ruin whatever he attempted so Henry, who had far more cooking experience, had taken up the chore. 

He called from the kitchen, "Joe? Would you mind getting the paper?"

 _Paper?_ He opened up Henry's front door. There was a newspaper laying on the mat. Fish wondered how the delivery had made it up the key locked lift. He'd seen Henry read newspapers before but it was when he was traveling. The idea of getting a paper delivered every day struck Fish as old fashioned and funny. He unfolded it to read the headline but he couldn't. The newspaper was in French. With a chuckle and a shake of his head, he shut the door and headed to join Henry at the table. 

Fish handed him the newspaper and teased, "An actual paper. Very quaint, Henry." 

"I have tried to embrace modern technology, love, but I still enjoy the feel of actual paper when I read. I do not understand those infernal e-readers people use these days," Henry said. 

"Says the man who will never need reading glasses," Fish said with a laugh. He'd originally had the same objection. While he was a man of technology, Fish enjoyed the feel of a book in his hands. The e-reader's flexible text size was too much of a bonus. He now found the print in regular books too small. Tired of Myfanwy stealing his paperback books as chew toys, Fish had purchased a Kindle. The pterodactyl hadn’t stolen it yet and Fish sincerely hoped the Hub's resident pet would continue to ignore the nearly one hundred quid electronic device. 

Henry shot him an annoyed smile, but only for a second. "I hope the coffee is suitable. I'm sure it's not up to Mr. Jones's standards." 

"I've never had coffee from one of those single cup brewers," Fish said. "You didn't have to go buying one of those, Henry. I could have gotten by on Starbucks." 

"As I have already said, Joe, my home is your home," Henry said, giving Fish a stern look over his paper. He tapped the keys on the table. "There's beer in the fridge as well. It is the same brand I saw at your flat in Cardiff."

"Thanks, Henry," Fish said with a smile but the smile quickly turned around to confusion. "You noticed what beer I had in my flat?" 

"It was the only item in your fridge, love," Henry teased, unfolding his paper. "And you're welcome. Eat, before it gets cold. I hope you like it. I'm not much of a cook." 

Fish surveyed his eggs and bacon as he buttered his toast. 

"Well it certainly looks better than anything I've ever cooked. I don't think I've ever made so much as a slice of toast properly," Fish said with a laugh. He put a forkful of egg into his mouth. "Holy shit, Henry! What do you mean you're 'not much of a cook'? This is delicious!"

Henry raised an eyebrow at his lover as he sipped his tea. "You've obviously never tasted anything Mao-Lin has cooked." 

Fish said with a laughed, "I've had Evie's cooking but I don't like those historic recipes she makes. She cooked some sort of stew with chestnuts for me once. It was dreadful. I'm probably too used to take away and frozen meals." 

"We need to get you eating better, love. I've never understood this modern affection for overly processed foods. They're nothing more than salty swill. Barely fit for a pig trough." Henry bit into his toast and turned the page of his newspaper. 

When he'd finished eating, Fish picked up his empty plate and took it to the kitchen. He rinsed it and put it into the dishwasher. He was about to rejoin Henry at the table, but stood there for a minute. He watched as Henry read his French newspaper and slowly ate his breakfast, which he was certain must be stone cold by now. The normalcy and domesticity of it all had him grinning. He wondered if his life could get any better. He walked over to Henry, put his hand on his shoulder and bent down, kissing the top of Henry's head as he squeezed his shoulder. Henry covered his hand with his own and looked up, smiling. 

"Is there anything you'd like to do today, love?" he asked. 

"Oh I don't know," Fish said. "You'd know better than I would." 

"I have some things in mind but they're flexible. I didn't know what you'd fancy," Henry said, sipping his tea. “There’s the Capilano Suspension bridge, Grouse Mountain, and the Aquarium. There’s also a beautiful Chinese Garden.” 

“That all sounds great, Henry. I’ll think about it. I'm still jet lagged," Fish said, drinking down more coffee. Henry was right, it was nothing like Ianto's. In fact, it was a bit dreadful, but Fish wasn’t about to tell Henry that. At least he hadn't had to leave the apartment for it. Fish smiled and reached out, running the tips of his fingers over Henry's hand a bit seductively. "We could get back into bed…" 

Henry grinned and was about to speak when the sound of Beethoven's Ode to Joy began blaring through the apartment. With a sigh, Henry stood up and grabbed his mobile from where it was charging on the kitchen counter. 

"Hello?" he said, not bothering to hide his annoyance. It might be Wednesday, but it was very early. "Trudy?… What's that you say?… Are you serious?… Those are sold and prepared for delivery already!… If they get damaged… This morning?! Are you mad!? Of all the-… No… Yes… Yes… Fine…" 

With an angry sigh, Henry turned to Fish. "There's a problem at the gallery. They're sending a truck to the studio. I need to get over there. Would you mind coming with me Joe? I'll need your help." 

"Sure, Henry." Fish started to down his coffee at record pace. "Give me five minutes…" 

"Slow down, Joe. This isn't a Torchwood emergency. We have time enough for you to not give yourself a stomach ache," Henry said. Before, he had been eating his food at a fairly leisurely pace in between reading his newspaper but now, he set the paper aside and tucked into his food in earnest. He muttered, "Bloody inconvenient." 

"What happened?" Fish asked. 

"Remember I told you that it was a joint show with me and two other artists? One of the other artists hasn't finished her work. The gallery needs to fill wall space," Henry said, exasperated. 

"So they asked you for more pieces," Fish said, downing the rest of his coffee.

"Yes, they're bloody well lucky I have them since the third artist doesn't," Henry said, flustered. "Actually, these paintings aren’t even mine anymore. They've been sold. I had just finished preparing them for delivery. The gallery has received permission from their owners to use them in the show. If it's a refund on some of the purchase price it had better be coming out of the gallery's commission. I'm sorry this has spoiled the morning, Joe." 

"It's fine, Henry. I wanted to see your studio anyway," he said. 


	3. Chapter 3

The studio wasn't far. In fact, they could have walked. Despite the inconvenient stress, Henry was beaming with pride as he unlocked the door. The studio was above a small shop. It was large, consisting of three spacious rooms with high vaulted ceilings. There was a storage room to the left where Henry kept his finished works or paintings that were drying. In addition to the storage room, there were two large rooms where Henry painted. There was a worn sofa next to the door and a low coffee table. The ceilings had large skylights to let in natural light. Henry appeared to work on more than one piece at a time. There were a few easels set up in the center of the main room. One gigantic canvas needed two easels to support it, and was covered with a sheet. The other easels held canvases in various stages of completion. Fish was surprised the walls were blank. There were no paintings hung at all. One side of the studio had shelving overflowing with a hodgepodge of various items Fish assumed Henry used for still life. There was also a large table where Henry did his preliminary work covered with paper, sketches, even some small paintings. 

When he entered the storage room, Fish raised an eyebrow at the paintings. No wonder Henry had asked for his help. The canvases were encased in wooden crates and were far larger than any Henry had shown him previously. One of them looked to be over six feet long. 

"Are we going to be able to get these out of here, Henry?" Fish asked. 

"They'll fit through the door fine. I learned the maximum size the hard way. The first time I moved into the space, I had to have the front window removed,” Henry said as he shifted the canvas forward. "Grab that end, Joe. They're not overly heavy, but they are cumbersome." 

"How did you get these up here on your own?" Fish asked. 

"I stretch the linen myself," Henry said, jerking his head towards the corner of the room. Fish saw large rolls of linen and pieces of wood frames. 

They managed to get the large canvases situated near the doorway and then they waited for the lorry to arrive. They were running late. When they finally did arrive, the workmen began carrying the crates out of the studio. Henry became immediately exasperated as one of the paintings nearly tumbled down the stairs. With Henry barking at the workmen, it took far longer to get the paintings properly loaded than Fish would have thought. Henry made several phone calls to the gallery, upset at the poor shipping conditions. Since the paintings were already owned, if they were damaged, it would not be good. Once the chore was complete, they went back upstairs and Henry plopped onto the sofa, stressed and exasperated. 

"Bloody incompetence. If they damage those, I will have someone's hide," Henry growled. 

Fish smiled affectionately at Henry's ire. He assumed it was an aspect of the 'honeymoon' phase of their relationship, but Fish found Henry adorable when he was irritated. He kissed the top of Henry's head. "It'll be fine, Henry." 

Henry gave him a weak smile and sat back on the sofa. Fish wandered across the studio, towards the table where Henry did his sketching.

"I hope I'm not keeping you from working," Fish said, jerking his head towards the easels. "If you need to paint…" 

Henry shook his head. "I'd rather spend the time with you. I have no pressing commissions and one of those paintings is for myself, a portrait of you." 

"Of me?" Fish asked, brightly, turning around. “Which one?” 

Henry waved at the canvas spread across two easels. 

“That huge canvas?"

Henry nodded. "It's not finished." 

Fish smiled. "Can I see it when it's done?"

"You can see it now if you like," Henry said, moving to get up. 

"I'll wait," Fish said. He went to the unfinished paintings, carefully avoiding the covered canvas. He was intensely curious about how Henry had chosen to portray him since the canvas was so large but he resisted the urge to peek. He wanted to wait until Henry was finished. He moved off to look at the other paintings. One was a portrait of a man, middle aged with a salt pepper goatee. Fish didn't recognise him. The other painting was a small landscape, an English moor dotted with lavender. The last canvas was mostly blank but Fish guessed it was going to be a portrait. Henry appeared to have roughed in a face, but there were no features. 

"You do a lot of portraits," Fish said as he looked from one canvas to the next. 

"It's neither my forte nor my preference, but many immortals of the Game rust portraits from me,” Henry said. 

Fish couldn't help but laugh at the idea. He knew that Miranda commissioned paintings from Henry but he'd thought that was because the two of them were friends. Surprised, he said, "You're taking the piss. You're the portrait artist to the immortals?" 

"Business transactions, nothing more,” Henry said with a shrug. "A number of us provide services within our rather cutthroat community, pardon the pun. I know of several immortal lawyers who can assist identity changes as well as quite a few financial agents who manage money and properties. There is an immortal man living in Quebec, a blacksmith, who many of us use to forge our swords. We even had a practicing psychiatrist, at one point." 

Fish chuckled a bit at the idea. It struck him as funny, but it made sense. Immortals were uniquely qualified to meet the needs of their own community. Another curiosity struck him. Nervously, he nudged the conversation. "Does it help?" 

"What?" 

"Providing a service?" he asked. He didn't look at Henry, merely continued to examine the unfinished paintings. 

"I don't understand, Joe," Henry said, scrunching his brow in confusion. 

"Does it keep you safe?" he asked, still not looking in Henry's direction. 

When Henry didn't answer, Fish glanced over at him. He'd became pensive, carefully considering his answer. Fish waited a few minutes while Henry thought, the process familiar to him. Henry often took time working things out in his head before he spoke and Fish had learned that he didn't like to be hurried along in that process. 

The immortal man said slowly, "Not necessarily. While one would be less inclined to say, take the head of one's own financial agent, a business deal gone wrong could prove fatal, but sometimes it can provide a certain measure of safety. As with many things, it depends on the situation, Joe." 

Over the past two months, Fish had spoken with Henry often. The two had always danced around certain subjects… Fish's job… the Game… but that was when they had been conducting their relationship at a distance, over the phone. Now that barrier was removed. Fish found this difficult subject even harder to tackle. It wouldn't go away and they couldn't ignore it forever. Henry would still be an immortal of the Game tomorrow and Fish would still work for Torchwood. Between Torchwood and the Game not to mention the fact that this was Fish's first same-sex relationship, there was a lot of unique challenges here. They needed to learn to communicate better and talk about the hard things. 

"Do you fight often?" Fish asked. 

Henry shook his head. Reluctantly, he said, "Like Mao-Lin, I fight only to defend myself. I try to avoid it as much as possible." 

Fish walked around the easel to look at Henry. "When was the last time?" 

"Joe…" 

"I want to know, Henry," Fish pressed. 

Henry didn't meet his eye. He sat there for a long time, thinking. Fish didn't say anything, knowing Henry would say what he would in his own time. He waited patiently. The immortal man scrubbed at his face and said, quietly, "When we were in Paris." 

Fish blanched and shouted, angrily, "That was two months ago! You never said anything!"

"I didn't want to worry you, Joe,” Henry said. He leaned forward on the sofa and ran his hands through his hair. "Paris is a dangerous city.”

"You still should have said something!" Fish cried. 

Henry leapt to his feet and flung out his arm. "And how many times have you faced danger of which you have kept me ignorant?" 

"That's different!" Fish shouted, unconsciously repeating the gesture. 

Henry leaned forward aggressively, his voice rising. "How is it different? Because it happens more often? Because it is the nature of your job? Challenges are the nature of my existence."

Taking a deep breath, Fish calmly said, "You're right, Henry. It isn't any different. I don't tell you because I don't want to worry you either." His voice became more and more upset as he continued. "I get that this isn't a great subject but we need to be able to talk to each other or this is never going to work." 

"Joe…" Henry whispered. He stepped towards Fish, taking his hand and cupping his face. 

Fish immediately felt badly. He forced calm and cupped Henry's face in return. "Hey, I didn't mean it like that. We need to be able to talk. These knee jerk reactions don't do us any favours." 

"Nearly five hundred years… you think I'd be better at this," Henry muttered under his breath. He nodded and dropped his hands. He inhaled sharply and then exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. Calmly, he said, "I'm sorry I didn't say anything to you. I didn't want you to attempt to interfere and give my opponent an opportunity to use you against me."

"I won't interfere with your challenges, Henry. Evie's drilled that into our heads pretty deep," he said, trying to keep his calm. For what felt like the thousandth time, he said to an immortal, "And as for someone using me against you… you can't protect me from everything. I'm not a child, Henry." 

Usually, Fish's declaration of adulthood to any of the immortals he knew erupted into a circular argument that happened over and over again. Henry was sorely tempted to make his usual protests but Fish was right, they couldn't fall into a pattern of behaviour. _A beginning is a very delicate time…_  

He cupped Fish's face and said softly, "It doesn't mean that I won't try," he said softly. He dropped his hands to give Fish a harsh look, his eyes looking so much older than his teenage face. "Answer me truthfully, Joe. If you did not know I was nearly five hundred years old, would my concern feel as patronising to you? Or as condescending? Would you be as quick to feel belittled, if I were truly twenty years your junior instead of more than ten times your age?" 

With widening eyes, Fish straightened up a bit. The concept hadn't crossed his mind once. He reflected back to when he'd first met Henry, how his youthful appearance, so incongruous with his mature demeanour had charmed him. Fish had made assumptions on what was laid out before him and he was still doing it. Olivia, his ex-fiance, had often expressed concerns to him about the dangerous and often toxic chemicals he came into contact with at his old job or when he jogged at night in the dark or any of the other numerous hazards of life. While Fish had found the concern annoying, he'd rarely found it patronising or condescending. She was being protective of someone she loved. When Henry expressed his concerns for Fish's welfare, Fish immediately began to feel belittled, as if Henry felt he had no common sense. Aside from gender, the only difference between Henry and Olivia was significant age. 

"No, I wouldn't," he admitted, dropping his gaze. "I'm sorry, Henry." 

"Don't apologise. I am to blame as well. While being patronising is not my intention, I am often over protective," Henry said softly. He took Fish's hand into his own. "We'll try harder." 

Fish smiled and nodded. Henry looked at his watch. 

"Perhaps an early lunch?" he asked. 

"I'm not hungry yet," Fish said. "We could go for a bit of a walk? You could show me some of the city first?" 

"Sounds like a delightful idea," Henry said with a smile. 


	4. Chapter 4

The two lovers strolled hand in hand down by the water, enjoying the view. Like back in Cardiff, Henry had pointed out a number of landmarks and interesting facts about the city, being the eager tour guide. Fish had never been much of a tourist, but he was enjoying listening to Henry. _Must be the accent,_ Fish thought with a smile. As they walked, he tried to ignore the strange looks and occasional stares. What made it worse was the feeling someone was following them nagged at his brain. He tried to shake the feeling off. _Normal bloke for one week, Fischer…_  

He hadn't realised how much Torchwood had him on edge. In Cardiff, he was constantly waiting for his mobile to ring or for a rift alert to go off. When he was out for his regular jogs, he was on alert for anything strange or unusual. Being in that perpetual state of anxiety had become engrained in him. He was jumpy, turning, and watching for any sign of something amiss. He was even carrying his Torchwood issue sidearm in his messenger bag. They passed a large dog at a distance that let out a low growl and Fish's head whipped around at the noise. He'd thought perhaps he'd heard a Weevil. _Vancouver not Cardiff you daft bastard… Christ can you act like a normal bloke for one bloody week?!_  

He shook off the feeling as Henry led him through the streets to a small cafe. The host greeted Henry by name and sat them at a table by the window. Fish smiled as he glanced at the menu. 

"Popular bloke?" he teased. 

"I come every Sunday for brunch with friends after church," he said, not even picking his menu up. "I had planned on skipping church this week because of the show." 

"Why aren't you going on a different day?" Fish asked.

Henry sipping his water. He said simply, "I didn't take you for a man of faith. I didn't want to force it upon you nor did I want to take time away from us for it." 

Religion hadn't been something the two of them had really discussed and Fish found himself curious. He hadn't realised Henry was a regular church goer. 

The waitress came to take their orders. Once they were alone again, Fish leaned down and dug his mobile phone out of his messenger bag and activated the noise killing feature. He put the phone down in between them.

Fish asked, "You were born during the Reformation. Is your church protestant?" 

Despite the noise killing app, Henry lowered his voice and said, "My father's 'Great Matter' happened after I was born. I was raised a Catholic but after the Reformation, for my own protection, I followed the Church of England. I attend a Catholic church now." 

"I used to have faith," Fish said softly, not looking up. He stirred his water, mashing the lemon slice with the straw. "I was going to enter seminary." 

Henry raised his eyebrow in surprise. "Not that I'm displeased with your choice but what changed your mind?"

Fish leaned forward and lowered his own voice again. "A drunk driver killed my father when I was fourteen. I was so angry afterwards… My father was a good man who believed." 

There was bitterness in his voice. The anger and grief sounded old and festered. Fish had been raised in a religious household. Against his father's wishes, he'd wanted to enter seminary and become a Catholic priest. His father had felt it was a waste of his son's genius. He'd been a chaplain in the Australian Army and when he'd finished his service, he worked as a car salesman, and was a deacon at their local church. One day, whilst out on a test drive with a customer, a drunk driver had side swiped the car. Fish's father and the customer had both been killed in the accident whilst the drunk had walked away with nothing more than a broken wrist. His father's death had shattered Fish's faith. What he had seen in life afterwards and with Torchwood hadn't done much for it either. 

After a deep breath Fish said, "But everything in my life from that point's led me here. To you." 

"I am sorry your father was taken from you, Joe," he said softly. Henry reached across the table for Fish's hand and watched as the anger drained from Fish's eyes when their gazes met. "But I am glad we have found each other."

"Me too," Fish said with a bright smile. 

He kissed Henry's hand before letting it go and the waitress had returned with their sandwiches. In a small tradition that had begun in London, the two men exchanged one of their sandwich halves for the other's. 

Chewing on Henry's cheese sandwich, Fish asked, "I'm surprised you're accepted at a Catholic church."

Henry smiled and, after he'd stolen the pickle off of Fish's plate, said, "The church I attend is quite progressive-" 

Henry broke off when his mobile began to ring. "If that is the bloody gallery…" 

Once again, Fish found his love's irritation adorable. He found himself smothering a grin as he continued to eat his food. Henry took his mobile out of his back pocket and looked at the caller ID. The annoyance on Henry's face was replaced with nervousness, and for a split second, Fish could’ve sworn he saw fear. 

"Excuse me, Joe. I have to take this," Henry said as he connected the call. "Hello? Is something the matter?… Not precisely… No, it's not the best time right now… Of course… Yes… Yes, later this evening, perhaps… Me too… Goodbye."

He disconnected the call and dropped his phone onto the table. "I'm sorry about that, Joe." 

"It's fine, Henry," Fish said, smiling. For some reason that he couldn't put his finger on, he was a bit jealous. He'd never been the jealous sort. It simply wasn't who he was. Then again, he'd always thought of himself as a sensible, level-headed straight bloke. Now he was moving in with his boyfriend whom he'd known just over two months. He stamped back the jealousy as irrational and resisted asking about the caller's identity.

When they were done with lunch, they walked back to Henry's studio to pick up the car. Again, Fish tried to shake off the feeling that someone was following them, but was unable to do so. 

"Hang on a second, Henry," Fish said. He unclipped his messenger bag and stood for a minute, feigning looking for something. Out of the corners of his eyes, he looked at the people around him. There weren't many. He spotted two men he had seen earlier down by the water. Suspicious, Fish closed his bag and tugged Henry in a different direction. _You're acting like a nutter… stop…_ he told himself, but he kept hearing Miranda and Jack's training echoing in his mind telling him to listen to his instincts. 

"Is something amiss, Joe?" Henry asked in a low voice. The change in their direction concerned him. 

"I feel like someone's following us, Henry," Fish said, in an equally low voice. "I just want to double back a bit." 

"Someone _is_ following us," Henry insisted. 

Fish started to walk faster. He hissed, "Why didn't you say anything?" 

"Because someone is always following me, Joe-my Watcher,” Henry said, stopping. 

Fish couldn't help but let out a groan at his own stupidity. How could he have been so thick! He turned them back towards Henry's apartment. "It's been driving me mad! I've felt like someone's been following us all morning. I'm sorry, Henry I forgot about your Watcher." 

"Well, tell me how you do it because I certainly can't," Henry said with a rueful laugh. "Bloody intrusive is what it is." 

After they'd picked up the car, they drove back to Henry's apartment, Fish still internally berating himself for overlooking the existence of Henry's Watcher. When they got upstairs, Fish stretched and yawned. 

"I'm not used to all this relaxation," he said with a laugh. "Starting to feel a bit sluggish." 

"You've been here scarcely a day, Joe," Henry said, laughing back at him. 

"This is pretty lazy for me, Henry," Fish replied. "When I get a day off in Cardiff, I usually have to spend it running errands or cleaning the flat."

"Joe, your free time is so limited," Henry said, shaking his head. "Why don't you pay someone to clean your flat?" 

Fish opened his mouth to explain to Henry precisely why he didn't have someone come in and clean, but he couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation. The thought had actually never crossed his mind. He'd always done his own cleaning. Now that Henry mentioned it, it made perfect sense to him. Fish usually only got one day or one evening off a week. To spend it frantically hoovering and dusting was a bit ridiculous. To keep his household chores to a minimum, Fish tried to do as much cleaning as he went. A maid coming by would be ideal. Even if all she did was clean the bathroom, it would free up a lot of Fish’s time. The idea grew on him immediately as it formed. To come home to a clean flat? To not have to spend his only day off buried in housework? 

"You know, I never thought about it. I'll look into it when I get back," Fish said, stifling a yawn. 

"You went running while we were in Paris. Perhaps some exercise would invigorate you?" Henry suggested. 

Fish stepped towards his lover. "I know an excellent form of exercise…" 

Henry shivered as Fish sucked on his neck. "We will have plenty of time tonight… and I'm a bit worn. I may have a kip." 

"Well I do want you rested," Fish said with a smile. He gave Henry a peck on the cheek. "I'm going to go change." 

Out of the corner of his eye, Fish saw Henry unplug his mobile phone and tap out a text. He shoved aside the odd jealousy that welled up again as he changed clothes. When he returned to the lounge, Henry still had his nose buried in his mobile. 

"Henry?" 

"Hmm?" Henry looked up from his phone, a bit alarmed. He turned it over and locked it. 

"You all right?" Fish asked, creasing his brow a bit. The jealousy popped up again.  

"Fine, Joe. Enjoy your run," Henry said, smiling. The smile turned to a look of concern as he eyed the thick belt around his lover's waist. He said, “I know your knee often bothers you, Joe, but I was unaware you also have a back problem.” 

"No, it's my holster," Fish said. He pulled at the flap and Henry saw the gun concealed within. 

"Good Lord, Joe! How did you get that through customs?" 

"I'm Torchwood, Henry. I could walk into the bloody Palace with this thing strapped to my hip and no one would blink an eye," he said with a shrug. 

"Vancouver is quite safe, Joe. I don't think it's necessary for you to be armed," Henry said. 

"I'm Torchwood, Henry. I'm always armed," Fish replied, seriously. He kissed Henry on the cheek and smiled. "I'll be back in a bit." 

Fish took the lift down, waving at the doorman as he left. He picked a random direction and started to run. Fish was enjoying the scenery as he made his way down to the water. There was a bit more traffic than Cardiff, but Vancouver was a more populated city. What he wasn't enjoying was that, once again, he felt as if someone was following him and this time he didn't have Henry with him. Would Henry's Watcher follow him? There'd be no reason for it. 

At a traffic light, Fish stopped under the guise of stretching, checking his surroundings out of the corner of his eye. He spotted one of the two men he had seen earlier on his walk with Henry by the water. Fish found this coincidence to be a little too much for him. He took out his mobile and pretended to be checking a map. Instead, he activated the GPS locator in the phone and then jogged a little further. Under the cover of a large group, he ducked into an alleyway and crouched down behind a dumpster, catching his breath. 

He watched as the man walked passed the alley's opening, nonchalant and without a care, not even looking around. _Daft_ … he told himself. He took his mobile out and turned off the GPS locator. He sent the appropriate code to let everyone at the Hub know it had been a false alarm. He stood up and when he emerged back on the street, he saw no sign of the man at all. He started to jog back towards Henry's apartment. 

A few times he looked over his shoulder, again thinking someone was following him, but this time when he looked he saw no one and certainly not the man from earlier. Deciding not to take a chance, he darted into a random shop and made his way, casually, through the employee door and into the stock room. He found the back door and slipped out of it. He doubled back a few times. The annoying feeling finally gone, he made his way back to Henry's apartment. _Probably nothing…_

He'd been gone far longer than he'd intended and he hoped Henry wasn't worrying about him. The doorman let him in with a smile on his face and Fish dug out the key for the lift. He gave the doorman a polite wave and inserted the key. While he rode the lift up, he stared at the keys in his hand. For the millionth time, he felt a bit of a girl as the grin spread across his face. The two of them were slowly building a life together. When the lift stopped, he got out and unlocked the door to Henry's apartment. His lover was nowhere in sight, but he could hear him somewhere in the apartment. 

Fish opened the fridge and dug out a bottle of water. He tossed the lid and then downed the bottle in a few long pulls, tossing it into the recycling. He walked back towards the bedroom- _our bedroom_ , he thought with a smile-so he could shower and change. 

He paused outside the bedroom door. Henry's apartment had two bedrooms, and for some reason Fish couldn't understand, Henry was shut inside the guest room. He could hear snatches of a conversation. He was about to knock on the door, but stopped himself. 

"…found the right moment… I will… Are you sure you're all right?… You sounded upset earlier…" 

Fish backed away from the door. Henry was obviously having a private conversation. Once again, as earlier, Fish found himself shaking off a twinge of jealousy. He had to remind himself that Henry was nearly five hundred years old and there were many people in his life other than Fish. Whoever was speaking with Henry was not a rival for his affections, and was likely nothing more than a friend. It could also have something to do with the problems regarding Henry's art show. It could be a thousand different things. Fish tried not to let his mind run away with itself. 

Henry still hadn't finished his conversation by the time Fish had gotten out of the shower. Dry and dressed in new clothes, Fish paused outside the guest bedroom. He didn't want to eavesdrop but he also didn't want to interrupt. As he walked past the room, he heard Henry's voice. 

"…I can't, no… Yes, of course, I understand. I was only hoping… Next time…" 

Fish made a conscious effort not to take Henry's words out of context but still felt a small twinge of jealousy rising up. He sighed, tried to shake off the feeling and then went into the kitchen for a beer.


	5. Chapter 5

At first, Fish had passed the time exploring the apartment. He refused to call it snooping. He wandered through Henry's lounge reading his book titles and examining the paintings, surprised they weren’t Henry’s work. He'd opened all the kitchen cupboards and drawers, trying to learn where things were. Finally bored of learning his new surroundings, he decided to sit down and read. He took out his Kindle and settled into his book. He looked up at the sound of his lover's voice.  

"I'm sorry, Joe. I wasn't expecting that call to last so long," Henry said.

"It's fine, Henry. I hope everything is all right," Fish said. 

A nervous, almost panicked look came over Henry's face. It was just a flash and then it was gone, replaced with annoyance. 

Immediately, Fish said, "I wasn't eavesdropping, Henry. I just went down the hall to look for you to tell you I was back, and all I heard was that you were concerned for whoever you were talking to. I promise, that was all." 

Henry didn't acknowledge what he'd said at all, changing the subject. He turned towards the kitchen and opened the fridge. "Do you mind having a late supper?" 

"I never eat at the same time. Whenever you're hungry is fine, Henry," Fish said, getting up off the sofa. 

Henry nodded and began pulling things out of the fridge. "Do you like chicken, Joe?" 

"I'm not picky," Fish said, taking another pull off his beer. "I'll eat pretty much anything you put in front of me." 

Henry took a number of vegetables out of the fridge and passed them to Fish along with a cutting board and knife. "Do you mind, love?" 

"Sure," Fish said with a smile. "This part I can do. It's the cooking part that's the problem." 

His lover didn't answer him and Fish wondered a bit at this strange mood that had overcome him. While Fish chopped, he watched as Henry took a roast chicken out of the fridge and began picking the meat off the bones. He stopped a few times in his chore, staring off into space. His face got his usual pensive look on it. It was the same look Henry got every time he was trying to work out how to say something. Done with his chopping, Fish pushed the cutting board towards Henry and his lover jumped. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," Fish said, peering at his lover with concern. "You okay, Henry?" 

"Fine, Joe," Henry said, smoothly. 

"You're on edge," he said, skeptically. Trying to guess what was upsetting Henry, Fish added, "I'm sure everything will be fine with the show." 

A strange look came over Henry's face and he nodded then continued with preparing their dinner. Well, Henry mostly prepared it. Fish helped a bit where he could and with instruction. He’d been amazed to see a chicken pie materialise out of the ingredients Henry threw together. The two ate in relative silence, Fish wondering at Henry's strange mood. 

He was concerned, but resisted asking. Fish had already asked once and Henry hadn't offered any further explanation or expressed any desire to talk about it. He didn’t want to ask again and turn into a nag. Fish was trying to find the right mixture of concern and allowing his lover privacy. Right now, Henry was closing him off and Fish was trying not to take it personally or feel alienated. These feelings were his own doing. 

His "energizer bunny" brain was useful in his work, often running off wildly in a direction at full speed, chasing the solution to some chemical or technical problem. While such thought processes were positive professionally, it was completely detrimental in his personal life. He continued to tell himself it was very possible whatever was upsetting Henry could be something he couldn't discuss with Fish. They’d only been together a few months. It could also involve the confidence or personal life of someone he didn't know. 

Fish insisted on clearing up after their meal. He had thought about distracting his lover towards the bedroom, but decided against it. The last thing Henry’s body language seemed to ask for was sex. Once Fish figured out Henry's dishwasher, they settled down for a quiet evening in front of the telly. Henry choose the programme. Much to Fish's annoyance, the immortal man had a love for crime dramas. At least, watching the microwave popcorn bag swell dissipated Henry’s foul mood and his lover was himself again.

"I don't know how you can watch this predictable rubbish," Fish said. He was laying on his back with his head pillowed in Henry's lap. 

"That writer bloke is funny," Henry said, absently running his fingers through Fish's hair. He reached into the popcorn bowl resting on Fish's belly and fed his lover a few pieces. 

Fish rolled his eyes as he chewed. He'd never seen an episode of 'Castle' before and wasn't impressed. Then again, crime dramas weren't his thing. Come to think about it, Fish had never really been a fan of the telly at all. Crime dramas reminded him too much of his professional life. The same reasoning could apply to Fish's waning interest in science fiction novels. "Do you really think the New York Police Department is going to let some writer follow a homicide detective around like this and be this involved in cases? It would be a nightmare in court!" 

"It's not meant to be realistic, Joe," Henry protested. 

"We've watched two episodes so far and I can tell already that it's always the same. The person who committed the crime is someone they've talked to early on who seems insignificant," Fish said, waving at the television screen. He’d let the viewing persist without complaint because they seemed to be improving Henry’s mood but enough was enough. He couldn’t stand another episode. “I’ll bet you anything, it was that bloke on the bicycle who’s done it.” 

"You're spoiling it," Henry pouted, eating some more popcorn. 

"That lady detective is pretty sexy," Fish said and then grinned up at Henry. "You fancy the writer." 

"He is quite handsome," Henry said, running his fingers through Fish's hair, "but so are you." 

Fish scoffed again. "I'm an greying man in his forties." 

"You're a gorgeous man with an accent that makes me weak at the knees." 

"Is that so?" Fish said, thickening his accent on purpose. He may be Australian born and bred, but years of university in America and living in the UK had dulled it. 

Henry bent down to kiss Fish gently. The tender kiss soon became heated and the television programme forgotten. Fish sat up and pushed Henry back onto the sofa, pressing them together. _Finally!_ he thought with relief. 

Henry melted into the kiss, bringing his hands up between Fish's shoulder blades. Fish broke the kiss, trailing his lips across Henry's cheek to his ear lobe. Henry reached out with his hand for the remote control and turned off the television.

"I think it's time for bed, Joe," he said, his voice trembling a bit. 

"Thank God, I thought you'd never turn that rubbish off," Fish said and then ran the point of his tongue along Henry's lips. “I should've done sooner…" 

Henry laughed and slid out from under Fish. Hand in hand the two men wandered back towards the bedroom. They both stood at the foot of the bed, kissing and slowly removing each other's clothing. They took their time, each piece of clothing falling to the floor achingly slow as they explored each other. Fish had never felt more relaxed and at ease. There was nothing but the two of them and the night ahead. In Cardiff, there was always the possibility a rift alert would cause an abrupt exit. Even when they'd been in Paris and London, there had existed the same possibility, but here in Vancouver, barring a massive worldwide incident, they had all the time they wanted. Torchwood and the rift were truly an ocean away as he toppled onto the bed with Henry. He wanted to savour every single moment and finally he’d be able to. 

Henry was pinned below Fish's body, their legs tangled together. The two men continued to kiss, allowing their hands and mouths to roam across heated skin. Henry hooked his heel behind Fish's calf and flipped them, pinning Fish's wrists above his head. He kissed down Fish's neck, sucking a mark up by his collarbone as Fish moaned loudly. He licked the bruise, pleased at the mark. 

"Tell me what you want, Joe," Henry whispered into Fish's ear. 

Up until now, everything they done together had been non-penetrative. 

Though initially apprehensive, Fish was more than ready to take things to the next level. The idea of having sex with another man had once disgusted Fish, but the idea of sliding balls deep into Henry made his heart race and his body quiver. The eager anticipation rose in him. 

"You… I want you," he answered. Fish twisted, flattening his body against Henry, laying between the other man's splayed thighs. He slid his hands down, cupping Henry's arse, simultaneously pulling up with his hands as he pressed down with his own hips and Henry let out a low moan. “What do you want?” 

Unabashed, Henry whispered in a husky voice, "I want what I've wanted since I first laid eyes on you-to feel every last inch of you buried inside me… if that something you are ready for.” 

Fish kissed him and replied, “More than ready.” 

In preparation for his trip here being a man of science, Fish had done copious amounts of research. After some disastrous pornography viewing and Internet searching, he'd swallowed his embarrassment and cornered Jack one night after hours. What had followed was the most comprehensive and informative sex education lesson of his life. It'd made him more confident and informed but it'd left Fish feeling overwhelmed and intimidated. Now that he was faced with the situation itself, he felt more uncertain. Once again, he felt like a fumbling virgin with all the nerves and inadequacy. There was hundreds of years of sexual experience laying beneath him. 

"Joe? Are you sure?” Henry asked, sensing a change in his lover. 

“Yes,” he said, bending to kiss Henry again. After braking the kiss, Fish stopped and looked around. There were necessities for their plans and there was nothing in sight. 

"The drawer," Henry said, jerking his head towards the nightstand. "You need to-"

"I know," Fish interrupted, blushing scarlet. 

He opened the drawer and spotted the bottle of lubricant. He tried not to let his hands tremble as he flipped open the cap. He squeezed a small amount onto his hand, cupping it for a moment to let it warm before swirling his fingers to coat them. Henry shifted himself further up on the pillows, making himself comfortable, as he spread his legs. A surge of desire tinged with nerves as Fish’s gaze involuntarily settled on the area right beneath Henry’s sack. What he was about to do felt downright unsanitary, but he pushed the thought aside and bent down to capture Henry's lips in another searing kiss. As his fingers drifted between Henry's legs, he missed, leaving trails of lube on Henry’s thigh and sack as he sought his entrance. Fumbling, Fish reached his destination. After slicking the puckered skin, he pushed his finger in, slowly, and Henry’s fingers dug into his sides. 

"Am I hurting you?" Fish asked, concerned. 

"No… but it's been a while. Go slowly," Henry said and then he gasped when Fish twisted his finger.

Fish tried to remember everything he'd learned, going over each careful step in his mind. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Henry pain, but Jack had assured him if he went slowly and took his time, that wouldn’t happen. The moans coming from Henry urged him on and he added a second finger. Henry moaned, arching his back as his eyes rolled back into his head. One of his hands let go of the sheets and reached back, gripping the pillowcase beneath his head. Smiling, Fish continued to prepare Henry carefully and slowly, taking his time. 

He pushed his fingers in deeper and felt a spongy bump, about the size of a walnut. He crooked his fingers to get a better feel. _I wonder if that's…_

Henry let out a wordless scream, throwing his head back as white hot ecstasy slammed through his body. 

 _… the prostate…_ Fish grinned as he slid his fingers over the bundle of nerves a little harder and Henry let out another scream. He smiled at the ecstatic expression on Henry's face. As he continued his massage of Henry’s gland, he thought, _Woah, I may have to try this…_

"Joe… more…” Henry gasped. 

He began thrusting his body back onto Fish's hand as two fingers became three, moaning loudly. Fish had never been so turned on in his life. The sounds Henry was making combined with the novelty of the experience had him painfully hard. He felt moisture trickling down his own cock as it leaked copiously. Suddenly, Henry reached out and stilled his hands, removing Fish’s fingers from his arse. 

"I need you," he said hoarsely. "Now." 

“Do you want to turn around?” Fish asked, feeling more heat on his cheeks. 

Henry shook his head, brushing his fingers down Fish’s face. “I want to see you.” 

He shifted more into the middle of the bed and slide one of the pillows under his hips. Fish sat back, poured a generous amount of lube onto his own erection, gasping as the cold lube hit his skin. Henry was spread before him, his knees apart without any shame or reservation. His heart quickened as he took in the erotic sight before him but the trust and love touched him deeply.

With his arms trembling a little, he leaned over Henry's body, lining himself up. The nerves returned and he kissed Henry with a slow tenderness to stamp them back. He settled on top of his lover, and as he broke the kiss, he said, “I love you, Henry. I love you so much." 

"I love you too," Henry replied and wrapped his arms around Fish's body. 

Fish shifted his weight to his hands and lifted his head. He stared straight into Henry's eyes as he pressed forward, feeling Henry's body enveloping him in a welcoming heat. Fish had expected it to not be much different than being inside of a woman, but it was. The sensation was completely different. The intensity sent lightning zinging up his spine.

"Oh God… Holy fuck!” 

It was unlike anything he’d ever felt. He'd wanted to keep eye contact but he couldn't. With his mouth hanging open in a perfect 'O', his eyes slammed shut against the intensity. 

The sound of a sharp inhale brought him out of his shock.

"Henry? Are you okay?" he asked as he froze. 

He saw Henry’s throat bob. 

"I'm hurting you," Fish said, horrified. He began to pull back but Henry’s grabbed his hip. 

"Don't stop. I’ll be fine, love. It will pass momentarily.” 

Fish continued, his eyes sliding closed. By the time he was fully sheathed, they were squeezed shut. He was teetering on the edge of his climax and his body was demanding it. It wanted him to move, create any amount of friction to send him over that edge. The last thing he wanted was to come in a few seconds like some teenager. He bit his bottom lip and took a few slow, deep breaths. 

"Joe?" Henry asked from beneath him and shifted slightly.

Fish couldn’t stop the garbled scream. Even the small movement had sent a surge of ecstasy through him that nearly sent past the point of no return. The muscles in his shoulders and back were trembling from effort as he tried to ease himself back. 

"Christ, don't fucking move or this'll be over before it starts. I'm about to come," he gasped. His breath was coming in gasps and his shoulders continued to shake. "Oh God, you feel so good." 

Henry froze and waited until Fish's breathing had evened out. 

"Better?" he asked. 

Fish nodded. He was still far closer than he wanted to be, but if he didn’t move soon, he was going to lose his mind. "Are you okay?" 

"Perfect," Henry said as he dragged Fish down for a kiss. 

Sliding his arms around Henry, Fish gave a slow thrust, feeling Henry's body rising to meet him. Henry’s channel was tight and searingly hot, enveloping him with a velvety softness. There was a tight, ring gripping him, sending lightning bolts into every cell of his body.

"Oh God," Fish gasped. “Oh God… you feel so good…" 

Shifting his weight, Fish took control, wanting to give his lover as much pleasure as he was receiving. He brought one of his hands up between them and began jerking Henry in time with each thrust of his hips. Once he’d established a good rhythm, he varied his angle and finally… 

"Joe!" Henry screamed as his fingers dug into Fish's arse. “Yes! There! Don’t stop!”

Struggling to stave off his own orgasm, Fish tried his best to keep the angle, but he could barely concentrate. Flashbulbs were going off behind his eyelids. He was sure he was going to bite his lip bloody. He was having trouble holding himself up on one arm. Henry must have realised, pushing his hand away so he could fist himself. Fish slowed the thrusting of his hips, trying to hold off the inevitable. He was nearing the point of no return, but the most important part of this first time was reaching the crest at the right moment, together.

"Joe… deeper… more,” Henry said. Urging him on, Henry thrust against him, harder and faser. 

"Oh my God! OH GOD!” Fish screamed. The added sensation sent him straight to the edge, and he couldn't stop it now. He gave in, chasing his orgasm instead of running from it. He’d been holding back, trying to temper his speed and power, but he was lost now. He grunted with each thrust as the sound of slapping flesh filled the room. 

"Joe!" he screamed as his legs convulsed and his back arched. His cock erupted, fountaining hot jets of come over his hand, belly and chest. The contractions of Henry's arse around him were all it took to send Fish flying over the edge with him. 

"Holy shit… Henry! FUCK! AH!" Fish shouted as he came harder and longer than he could ever remember, the release as emotional as it was physical. His whole body went rigid as he let out a garbled scream. His cock spasmed as he emptied himself deep inside Henry, the hot come lubricating his last few thrusts. Panting he sagged down onto Henry, his heart pounding in his chest. 

"Oh God…" he panted and then captured Henry's lips. "I love you so fucking much." 

"I love you too, Joe,” Henry gasped between panting breaths. 

Fish's back began to protest and he rolled away. His softening cock slipped from Henry with a rush of come following it and both men laid back, panting. 

“Wow,” Fish gasped. 

Still panting, Henry rolled and opened the drawer, taking out a small flannel, he wiped them both clean. The necessity taken care of, he wrapped himself around Fish, burying his face into his shoulder. 

"It is a great joy, these beginnings…" he said softly, nuzzling his nose against Fish's skin. 

“Not bad for a second first time,” Fish said, hugging Henry close to him. Every expectation he'd built up had been wrong. It had been so much more than he’d thought it would be. 

“Again, you have me questioning your honesty, Joe. You were most… adept.” Henry waggled his eyebrows at him.

Fish blushed furiously. Again, something in his body language must have changed and Henry picked up on it immediately. It was infuriating how easily Henry read him sometimes. 

"Perhaps I have underestimated the extent of the Internet?" Henry joked. He chuckled, his breath warm against Fish's chest. "Or perhaps that was not the extent of your research?" 

Fish cleared his throat, embarrassed. “I, erm… I had a man to man with Jack.” 

"I owe your Captain Harkness a drink," Henry said, brushing his thumb across Fish's nipple. 

"Oi, some of us aren't teenagers," Fish said, swatting at Henry's hand. "Christ, how on earth am I going to keep up with you?"

Seriously, Henry said, "Something that does not concern me in the slightest, Joe. This is but a small part of our relationship." 

Fish closed his eyes. He didn’t want to spoil this with morbidity. He joked, “Call it male vanity.”

The insecurity was something that had gnawed at the back of his mind at first. Henry was centuries old, but his body was that of a teenager. Fish liked to think he was more secure in his manhood and virility, but since they'd begun this relationship, he'd worried about what would happen as he aged and Henry remained unchanged. Even now, he knew it was only a matter of time before someone mistook Henry for his son and that would only get worse as Fish aged. 

What would happen when Fish was in his seventies? Or his eighties?

A heart wrenching realisation came to him. Fish would never get that old. Torchwood would kill him long before then. _A lifetime with you wouldn't be enough_ , Henry had once said to him. They wouldn't have a lifetime. Fish hugged Henry close, burying his nose in the other man's hair as sadness filled him. He didn't want to leave Henry alone. He didn't want to break his heart. He saw the grief and sadness in Henry's eyes sometimes when he looked at him. _Don’t spoil this_ , he chastised.

He felt a yawn rising in his chest. He swallowed it back down. Instead of giving into his body’s desire to fall asleep, he dragged Henry up on top of him.

"I think it's time for round two."


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, the couple had a lie in. Neither had wanted to get out of bed. After they'd satisfied one hunger, the more conventional sort had driven then from the warm bed. They'd only taken quick, separate showers. As Henry went about fixing their breakfast, Fish laid the table, relishing the soreness of overused muscles. The ache in his body reminded him of last night's bliss. He couldn’t stop smiling. When he was done, Henry refused to allow him to help, but set a mug of coffee in front of him and disappeared back into the kitchen. Fish had no idea what his boyfriend was stirring at the hob, but he caught him humming some tune. 

The whole process was taking far too long and Fish’s stomach grumbled loudly. Just as he was about to complain Henry was keeping him hungry, he set a bowl of steaming porridge down in front of him. Before he could utter any thanks, Henry immediately disappeared back into the kitchen. He returned bearing a large serving tray filled with small bowls, chuffed to bits. There must have been a dozen bowls filled with a variety of toppings for his porridge each with their own small spoon-fresh fruit, brown sugar, maple syrup, cream, cinnamon… Fish widened his eyes and looked up at Henry. 

"You really went all out didn't you?" he said with a broad smile. He reached for the cream and his hand collided with Henry's. "You first." 

Henry blushed a little, splashing the thick cream onto his porridge. "I didn't know what you'd fancy." 

"You could have just asked, Henry," Fish said, with a laugh. He took the cream from Henry after he added a spoonful of brown sugar to his bowl. Henry took the brown sugar from him and then both of their hands collided as they simultaneously reached for the small bowl of blueberries. "Sorry." 

"No, they're all yours," Henry said. He tipped the entire contents onto Fish's porridge. 

"There aren't any more?" Fish asked. He started to get up out of his seat but Henry put his hand on his wrist. 

"No, those are the last. Eat them, they're good for you." He pushed Fish back into his seat. 

Fish smiled and dropped half of the berries into his lover's bowl. He started to stir the berries around. It wasn't lost on him that they had chosen the same toppings. _Being a girl again, Fischer_ , he self-scolded. Truthfully, he didn’t much care. He brought a spoonful up to his mouth, but it was still too hot. While he waited for his food to cool, he gave into a curiosity. 

"Why do you get a French newspaper?" Fish asked. 

"I don't have a talent for language. I find the information difficult to learn and retain. Reading the paper every day helps," Henry said. He jerked his head towards the coffee table. Laying on the table was another book. "I have been refreshing my Welsh." 

"Welsh? Why the fuck did you learn to speak Welsh? The Welsh barely speak Welsh," Fish said with a laugh. 

Henry gave him that bemused expression again. “I was born long before Google Translate and was very nearly the Prince of _Wales_ , love." 

Fish made a half laugh, half grimace, a bit embarrassed he'd missed the obvious. Unlike Miranda, Henry was all too happy to answer any questions about his past or himself and Fish loved these moments when the two of them talked, learning about each other. He asked, "How many languages do you speak? I saw you have books in Russian." 

"My father educated me well," Henry said, looking at Fish over his paper. "I grew up speaking English and French. Later I was tutored in Latin, Spanish, and Welsh. On my own, I've learned Italian, German, and Russian. The only languages I make an effort to retain right now are French, Russian and Latin." 

"Why those?" Fish asked, sipping his coffee. The number of languages Henry spoke didn't surprise Fish. Miranda also spoke a wide variety of languages, often acting as the unofficial Torchwood translator. 

"Living in Canada, French is essential. I enjoy Russian literature, which loses a great deal in translation. The Latin I use to speak with Mao-Lin." 

"Why Latin?" Fish said, confused.

"The true pronunciation of Latin is lost," Henry said, giving his porridge a stir. "Mao-Lin knew it as a living, spoken language and has taught me its proper pronunciation which is vastly different from the pronunciation I was taught or any used today. The Latin we speak would be incomprehensible to any Latin scholar." 

"Was that what you two were speaking to each other back at the Hub?" Fish asked, remembering the mental note he'd made and forgotten. 

"Yes, she prefers it to ensure any conversation can be made freely. The only drawback of the Latin is that any written communication would not be secure. While the original pronunciation is incomprehensible, the written word is well understood." Henry folded his paper and dropped it onto the table. "We should probably go to the shops today, Joe.”

"Do you mind if I borrow something of yours?" Fish asked, absently. 

"Not at all," Henry said. "We are nearly the same size, but all of my suits have been altered to some degree. I don't believe they will fit you properly or comfortably. You're more than welcome to try, but I think you should purchase a new one, Joe. You mentioned it was your only suit." 

"Good point," Fish said with a sigh. 

After they'd cleared away breakfast, Henry drove them to the local department store, and they started looking around. Henry had been correct, there was no putting this off. Even if he did manage to find something among Henry's things that fit, he'd have to replace the suit eventually. Ianto often looked embarrassed when Fish accompanied him to London for government meetings. It was better he did it now, when he had someone with him with a better fashion sense. If it was comfortable, clean, and free of holes, to Fish, there was nothing wrong with it. 

 _We all need our vices…_ Fish thought to himself. At first, Henry’s wealth had made Fish uncomfortable. He thought Henry a materialistic nobleman, but was learning that was far from the truth. The penthouse with its security key appeared, at first, to be a ridiculous extravagance, but the reality was the high security building kept out other immortals of the Game. The car that had driven them here wasn’t anything flashy. All the expensive items in Henry’s life weren’t superfluous luxuries, but meant for Henry’s comfort such as his mattress. Fish had started to realise he never splurged or indulged in any sort of excess in any aspect of his life and maybe it was time to start. In fact, he was beginning to formulate a list of things he was going to change when he got back to Cardiff. The first thing to go would be his mattress. 

The upscale department store had been Henry's choice since Fish hadn't known the area. Normally, Fish would’ve selected something more modest, or even somewhere that sold things second hand. Maybe it was time to see for himself why Henry and Ianto indulged themselves in expensive clothes. The fabrics were lovely and the items did seem well made.  

Henry was mostly leading the way, and Fish let him. The two of them were in the middle of a small argument over who was going to be paying when a voice called out, in a poor imitation of an English accent, "'Cry God for Harry, England and Saint George!'" 

Henry's head snapped up and he grimaced before forcing out a tight, barely polite smile. "Aaron." 

A tall, thin man walked over to them. He looked like some sort of model-extremely handsome with elegant features and blonde hair. He was dressed in a smart business suit and carrying a small bag from the store. 

"Harry, I wasn't expecting to run into you," he said. He'd thankfully dropped the dreadful accent. 

Fish put the suit he was looking at back onto the rack and turned. 

"I hate when you call me that," Henry said with annoyance. "It’s good to see you Aaron but-"

"Where's your manners, _Harry_? Aren't you going to introduce me?" Aaron interrupted. 

After a frustrated sigh, Henry said, "Aaron, this is Doctor Joseph Fischer. Joe, this is-" 

"Aaron Reynolds," the man said, interrupting Henry again. He switched his bag from one hand to the other so he could shake Fish's hand and gripped it far tighter than required. Aaron was significantly taller than Fish and he leaned forward, almost aggressively, trying to use his height to intimidate. Fish wanted to roll his eyes at the dick measuring. 

"So you're the new flavour of the month," Aaron sneered. He quirked an eyebrow at Fish, giving him a small once over. "Surprising… this one's got straight written all over him." 

Fish forced out a smile but said nothing. He did not like this man. At all. There was no way he was going to let Aaron bait him. Fish didn't feel the need to peacock himself in front of whoever this was, but he did feel a surge of possessiveness over Henry rise up. 

“Excuse us, Aaron…" Henry said tersely, trying to lead Fish away. 

"Of course, of course," Aaron called at their retreating backs. "Good to see you're cleaning him up. You know where to find me when you get tired of him or he decides he's done experimenting." 

Fish saw red. He spun on the ball of his foot, but Henry snagged his arm before he could dash after Aaron. 

"Ignore him, Joe," Henry muttered. 

"Who the fuck was that, Henry?" Fish asked. 

Henry shifted his weight nervously. 

"An ex," Fish supplied. 

"Not precisely," Henry said, a little agitated. "Aaron is an associate at the law firm that once handled my legal affairs here. It's how we met." 

“Once?” Fish noted. 

Henry nodded, clearing his throat. He shifted uncomfortably. "It was a brief affair. Aaron wanted more. I did not. My business relationship with the firm became intolerable after I stopped seeing him and I switched firms. He was passed over for partner and I believe he thinks our affair may be partially responsible." 

"He's a fucking twat, Henry. That might be what's responsible," Fish said, angry. "What the fuck did you see in him?"

"A pretty face, nothing more," Henry said, embarrassed. "I usually do not blur the lines between my professional and private matters. It was a mistake I deeply regret.“ 

Fish took another suit off of the rack and thought about the damaged and faded one that he'd had to throw into the trash. He'd bought it so he could meet Olivia's parents. He jerked his head in the direction Aaron had exited. "I can't imagine what I'd do if I ran into Olivia like that…" 

"You've mentioned your ex a few times, Joe," Henry said. As he continued to browse, he asked, "If you don't mind my asking, Joe, what happened?" 

"With Olivia?" Fish said, also continuing to browse the clothing. He’d expected to have this conversation sooner. Olivia’s heart-shaped face and wide eyes appeared in his mind. She used to dye her wavy hair blonde and he wondered if she still did that. "We met through mutual friends. A mate at work introduced us. We took our time. We went on a lot of dates. She took me to meet her parents. We moved in together. I bought a ring. I got down on one knee. I thought I'd done everything right… everything a good bloke's supposed to do…"

"She said no?" Henry asked, not really looking up. 

"Oh, she said yes all right, practically screamed it.” Fish let out a scoff. The whole restaurant had clapped. At the time, he hadn’t been able to believe an incredible woman like Olivia Marie Porter had wanted to spend her life with him-an awkward, geeky lab squint. He winced at the memory and sighed. He turned to Henry and took the pinstriped suit out of his hands. "We made all the arrangements. We booked the catering hall, the officiant, the band… My sister and her whole family had flown in from Perth…" 

"She didn't leave you at the altar did she, Joe?" Henry asked, appalled. 

"No, but what she did was nearly as bad,” Fish said with a sad smile. "She showed up at my stag night. I was half pissed when she gave me the most mad 'it's not you it's me' speech I'd ever heard. Some bollocks about loving me but not being in love with me. I still have no fucking idea what she meant." 

He sounded bitter and angry, because he still was. He'd given up on being completely over the whole thing years ago. It was one of those things, like losing his father, that would never sit right with him and would always hurt when he thought about it to some degree. 

"I believe she has seen one too many films," Henry said with a shake of his head. 

"The next day she moved out. She wouldn't talk to me. She wouldn't go to counseling. She wouldn't do anything. She just packed her things and left," Fish said with a sigh. “Couple months later, I got a cheque in the mail from her parents for her half of the wedding expenses down to the penny. No letter. No explanation. No apology. Not even a fucking greeting card. Just a cheque in an envelope." 

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked," Henry said. 

"It's fine, Henry," Fish said with a shrug. "I was real messed up afterwards. Anna was there for me like I'd never been there for her. She took care of everything, even set things up so I could skive off work and disappear to Greece for a few months." 

"Greece?" Henry asked. 

Fish nodded. "It was her idea. I spent three months living in Greece, soul searching and a bunch of other bollocks." 

"Did it help?"

"At the time it didn't seem like it," Fish admitted. "The whole 'go off into the desert and reconnoiter' was never really my thing. After I got back I realised it'd helped a lot." 

"Did you ever see her again?" Henry asked, rummaging through a stack of shirts. 

"I really wouldn't call what went on 'seeing' her," Fish said, rolling his eyes. "She missed some things when she packed. I put them all into a box but I didn't have the heart to throw them away. Every few months, for years afterwards, I'd get a random e-mail or letter asking for something back. Sometimes it was in the stuff she'd forgotten and sometimes it wasn't. If it was, I'd box it up and send it back to her." 

Henry selected a shirt and handed it to his lover. In a delicate tone, he asked, "Joe? Why didn't you just send the entire box straightaway?” 

Fish opened his mouth to explain, but couldn't think of any explanation. He stood there for a few seconds, his mouth hanging open and then closed it. The idea had never crossed his mind. Not once. In fact, after the requests had stopped, Fish never threw the box away. On the floor of his flat back in Cardiff, at this very moment, was a box marked 'Olivia'.  

"Never thought about doing that," Fish said, raising his eyebrows. Now that Henry had said it, it seemed like the most logical thing for him to have done. This was the third time Henry had pointed something like this out to him. _Guess wisdom does come with age,_ he thought with a wry smile. 

With their arms full, they wandered over to the fitting room. Fish stepped into the room and hung the selections on the wall while Henry leaned on the door outside. Since they were the only ones in the fitting room, Fish continued their conversation as he undressed. 

"That woman did a number on me. I bet a shrink would have a field day," Fish said, again bitterly. "What Anna said in Paris is true. I haven't had a serious relationship since her." 

Fish fastened the suit trousers and even though he couldn't see Henry, he could feel the bemused expression on his lover's face. "Again, Henry, exception to the rule." 

While he finished changing clothes, Fish spared a few moments to think about Olivia. He wondered where she was now and what she was doing. Most of all, he wondered if she'd ever found happiness. He was still bitter and angry, but it had never been directed at his ex. Deep down, Fish had always wished her well. He heard Henry shifting outside of the fitting room and sent up a silent prayer, hoping that Olivia had found some fraction of the happiness and love he now had with Henry. His mouth quirked. If Olivia could see him now… 

He turned, admiring his reflection. This was one of the suits that Henry had selected and he couldn't fault his lover's taste. The fabric was soft and the cut was flattering. It was a little tighter than he would’ve chosen, but not uncomfortably so. He picked up the ties and began to curse under his breath as he tried to get the knot tied properly. 

"Is anything the matter, Joe?" Henry asked. "Mind the pins…"

"This bloody tie…" Fish sighed. He opened the door and glared as Henry failed to smother a smirk. The tie was knotted properly but the thin end was hanging far below the wide end. Henry let out a cough in an effort to mask a laugh. 

"Oi! It's not funny!" Fish cried, indignantly. 

"Here, let me, Joe," Henry said, smiling affectionately. He reached up and unknotted the tie then started to tie it properly. 

"I'm shite at this, always have been. Olivia did it for me…" Fish trailed off when he saw the look on Henry's face as he knotted the tie. He stood there, transfixed by it, staring at his lover's face. 

Every morning before work and church, Fish’s father had held out his own tie to his mother. His Mum had tied it, slowly with a smile, a loving look passing between them. The traditional image of a woman standing in front of her man, knotting his tie for him had always been the quintessential image of love to Fish. 

The picture he now formed was far from traditional. The person in front of him was a nearly five hundred year old man, not a normal mortal woman, but there was no misreading the look of love and affection in Henry's eyes as he knotted the tie. Had Olivia ever looked at him this way? No, not quite like this. There was just something more in Henry's eyes. 

Fish realised it wasn't the tie tying or the traditional image he'd wanted at all. What he'd really wanted was the look of pure love that had passed between his parents-a look that said they were in love and loved in return. Now, standing there, staring at Henry's face, Fish had finally found it. He stood frozen, his eyes prickling with tears as his love for Henry welled up in his heart. Henry smiled, tightening the tie and flipping down his collar. He pinched the knot between his fingers, straightening and adjusting. 

"There you are, love," Henry said with a bright smile, smoothing the tie against the shirt with his hand. 

Fish surged forward, kissing Henry solidly. When they broke apart, Fish rested his forehead against his lover's. 

"What was that for?" Henry asked, a little breathless. 

Softly, Fish told him the story and the loving look in Henry's eyes returned full force. Embarrassed, Fish said, "Yes, I know, I'm a bit of a girl." 

"Sap," Henry teased. He kissed the tip of Fish's nose. "I love you." 

"I love you too, Henry," Fish whispered. Smiling, he stepped back. "Well?" 

Henry raked his eyes up and down Fish’s body and Fish swore the man was practically drooling.

"Earth to Henry?" Fish said, snapping his fingers. 

"Oh, sorry, Joe," Henry said. "You look quite handsome." 

Fish walked over to the riser and stepped up onto it. He buttoned the jacket and started to turn in front of the three mirrors. "I don't know about this pinstripe… A bit wide isn't it?" 

"Why don't you try on the others, Joe? It doesn't look as if you'll require much tailoring." 

"I think they fit fine," Fish said, moving and turning. "You think they need to be altered?" 

"Just a few places, nothing significant.” Henry walked around him, brushing his hands along the suit and pinching it in several places. “The jacket sleeves are a touch too long. Those trousers will need to be hemmed, depending on how much break you prefer.” 

Fish hopped off the riser, escaping Henry's hands. He disappeared into the fitting room to change into the next suit. "Bloody hell, you sound like Ianto." 

It didn't take Fish long to try on the other suits. He caved when Henry scolded him for only buying one, but refused to budge on the tailoring and who was paying. 

"They fit fine, Henry," Fish said with an eye roll as they joined the queue. 

"The trousers should be hemmed, Joe," Henry insisted. "They're a bit long." 

"Is the back of the cuff hitting the ground? No? They're fine," Fish said, rolling his eyes again. "And getting them tailored will take time. I need something to wear this weekend. I’ll see to the altering when I get back to Cardiff.“ 

"At least, let me-"

"No, Henry," Fish repeated. "Yes, you talked me into buying two suits. Yes, they're kind of pricey but, no, I'm paying for them." 

"Then at least-"

"I'm paying for the shirts and the ties too," Fish repeated. 

"I want to-"

"And I _don't_ want you to," Fish repeated. "How much was my ticket change?" 

"What does that have to do with anything, Joe?" Henry said but Fish saw the guilty look 

“The airline e-mailed me about my first class upgrade. When I checked credit card statement online, there was no charge for the upgrade.”

"You were limping when you got off the plane," Henry pointed out. 

"I'm not angry about it, Henry. It was nice of you to want to spoil me, really, but I'm paying for the clothes," Fish said, laying his selections on the counter. He dropped his credit card next to them. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is NOT the Men in Black from the Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith movies nor the comic books they're based on. It is an MiB of my own creation.

"I'll hang these for you, Joe," Henry said, taking the suits into the bedroom. 

"Thanks, Henry," Fish said. He followed Henry into the bedroom and took out his running clothes. "I think I'm going to go for a run. I won't be gone long." 

Henry kissed the top of his head. "I'll see you when you get back. I'm going to get us some sandwiches from the shop." 

Fish went to open his mouth but Henry said, "Turkey club with plenty of mayonnaise." 

Fish found a broad grin spreading across his face. "You're too good to me, Henry." 

A flicker of sadness passed across Henry's eyes and then was gone. "You deserve it, love. Go on, I'll be here when you get back. I may practice a bit myself." 

With his special holster strapped to his waist, he popped his ear buds. He hit the pavement, taking off along the route he'd chosen yesterday. He'd always loved to run, even as a child. He ran everywhere and his parents encouraged it, enrolling him in competitive sports. His love of long distance running continued through university and throughout his life. When he was a child it had just been fun, but as the turmoil of adolescence had ravaged his body, it had become a way to organise his thoughts and calm his mind. It was meditative. 

The various conversations he'd had with Henry over the past few days had stirred upsetting memories-his father's death, his loss of faith, and his split with Olivia. Yesterday, he'd been so preoccupied with the idea someone was following him, he hadn't had a chance to work through his feelings. Today, the music in his ears was nothing more than a way to regulate his stride. He was moving at a slow and leisurely pace, using the exercise as a way to clear his mind rather than tax his body. He kept his eyes on the pavement in front of him as he jogged along, lost himself in the meditative feel of his feet hitting the pavement, and regular breath in and out of his lungs. He thought about his Mum. He thought about his Dad. He thought about Torchwood. He thought about his sister. He thought about God and the church. He thought about Olivia. He thought about Henry-their past and future together. 

After an unknown number of miles and minutes, his mind felt clear and calm. However, when he looked up, he had no idea where he was. So lost in his thoughts, he'd neglected to track his route. He slowed to a walk and then stopped. Not seeing anything familiar, he gave in and took out his mobile to access a map. He raised his eyebrows at the time. Henry was likely wondering where he was. Then again, Fish had no idea where he was either. After he figured out his location, he'd ring to tell him not to worry. A black car pulled up next to him. Its rear window rolled down, but no face appeared. 

"You lost?" a man's voice asked from within the car. Fish raised an eyebrow. _That's not a Canadian accent…_ For a minute, Fish thought the accent sounded straight from south Boston. 

"I'm fine thanks," Fish said, politely. This didn't feel right. He took a few slow steps backwards and put his hand down by his hip, ready to reach for his gun. 

"Do you need a lift?" the voice asked again.

"I'm good," Fish said. With a sleight of hand, he undid the flap on the holster. This was definitely not right, at all.

"Get in the car, Doctor Fischer," the voice said and the car door swung open. 

Fish dropped his mobile, took another two steps back and drew his gun. "If you think I'm getting in that bloody car you are out of your fucking mind." 

Two men in identical black suits got out of the front seats, slowly, their hands in clear view. They both moved around to flank a third man who got out of the backseat-the source of the voice. This third man was also in a black suit, but he wore a black fedora. They looked ridiculous and Fish felt like he'd been dropped into some sort of film. All they were missing were the sunglasses. He took a few more steps back and raised the gun higher, pointing it at the man with the hat. 

"Doctor Fischer," the man said, in a thick south Boston accent. "I'm Ethan Donovan." 

Fish recognised the name instantly. Ethan Donovan was the head of Torchwood's American counterpart, Men in Black. Fish didn't lower his gun and snapped, "What do you want?" 

"You're Torchwood, Doctor Fischer. We're on the same side," he said, holding out a towel. "How about we give you a lift back to your partner's apartment?" 

Fish picked his mobile up from the pavement and dumped it into his pocket, simultaneously activating the GPS locator. He put his gun back into the special holster, then took the towel from Donovan's hands. He climbed into the car. 

"Last time I ask, what do you want?" he demanded as the car started to move. He wiped his face with the towel and draped it around his neck. 

"Your resume's impressive, Doctor Fischer," Donovan said, opening a file folder. "Summa cum laude, MIT. Torchwood field agent for four years with distinction. I see several commendations here…"

"How did you get my personnel file?" Fish demanded. 

"I asked for it," Donovan said as he closed the file. "Captain Harkness says you're the best marksman on his team." 

"Get to the point, Director," Fish said, impatient. He narrowed his eyes. He subtly shifted himself forward in the car's seat so he could more easily reach his gun. 

"I want you to come work for us," Donovan said. 

"Not interested," Fish replied, instantly. 

"Don't be so hasty," Donovan said. "Think it over." 

"I'm Torchwood, Director Donovan. Neither Captain Harkness nor Doctor Ryan will appreciate you headhunting me. I'm not interested in a job at Area 51 with MiB. I'm sorry you've wasted your time," Fish said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

The car stopped and Fish could see Henry's apartment building through the window. He reached for the door handle. 

"Now, wait a minute…" Donovan reached out and grabbed Fish's wrist. Reacting, Fish twisted his own arm, shaking off Donovan's grip as he seized the man's forearm. He dug his thumb into a pressure point on Donovan's wrist and the man howled. Simultaneously, Fish drew his gun, pressing the end of the barrel flush up under Donovan's chin. 

He stared straight into the man's eyes as he said, "I'm a Torchwood field agent, Director Donovan. Not some lab squint." 

"I'm not offering you a job in our labs, Doctor Fischer," Donovan said, glancing nervously down at the gun barrel. "I flew here so I could tell you in person that I want you to be my Deputy Director." 

"Excuse me?" Fish asked. He let go of Donovan's wrist and lowered his weapon out of shock. 

Donovan massaged his wrist, and said, "I know what the world's view of MiB is, Doctor Fischer. I got no delusions. My organisation's a disaster. The President's given me carte blanche. I need a right hand man, someone who can help me fix things." 

"What the fuck makes you think that's me?" Fish asked. "I'm an engineer. A chemist." 

"Captain Harkness speaks highly of you, Doctor Fischer. Doctor Ryan too," Donovan said. "You don't have a leadership role at Torchwood but they believe you can step up to the plate. Your former boss at ECO UK spoke highly of your management skills."

"You talked to Mike Warren?" Fish asked, aghast. 

"I did. This isn’t empty flattery, Doctor Fischer. Everyone's got nothing but good things to say about you," Donovan said. 

Fish sat back and said, again, "I'm not interested, Director." 

"Think about it. We don't have Torchwood's mortality rate. You and your young lover could have a happy and long life together,” Donovan said as he opened the car door for Fish. "I'll be in touch." 

Fish got out of the car, his mind reeling. The two men he'd seen earlier were standing outside the car. One of them shut the door and gave Fish a small nod and a friendly smile. Fish watched them get into the car and drive off. He glanced upwards, unable to see the windows of Henry's apartment. His feet were heavy and his mind was still spinning as he rode the lift up and let himself into the apartment. 

Henry nearly ran across the room when he came through the door.

“Joe, are you all right?" Henry asked, anxiously. “You’ve been gone quite some time. I was worried!” 

"I'm fine, Henry, and I’m sorry,” Fish said and then raised his finger to his lips. He gave his lover a serious look and Henry immediately fell silent. 

Fish gritted his teeth. He'd settled his mind only to have it in turmoil again. He took out his phone and cancelled the GPS beacon. He sent the accompanying code so his colleagues would know he was fine. He activated a special scanning program in his PDA and yanked the towel from around his neck. To Henry's utter confusion, Fish pointed his PDA at the towel and then himself. Henry continued to watch, confused, as Fish walked around the apartment looking at the PDA's screen. Fish let out a sigh of relief. Unless MiB had some technology Torchwood did not-something highly improbable-there was no audio or video surveillance on the apartment. He let out a relieved sigh. 

"I'm sorry, Henry," Fish said. He tapped the PDA. "I needed to make sure no one was listening first." 

"Who, Joe?" Henry demanded. 

"Men in Black," Fish said, flatly. 

"I beg your pardon?" Henry gasped, a little bemused. "Have you become a conspiracy theorist?"

Normally, he'd find that bemused expression on Henry's face positively adorable, but right now his mind was moving in too many directions. "MiB is a real organisation, Henry. That were formed shortly after the Roswell crash. They’re our equivalent within America.“ 

"What did they want?" Henry asked, alarmed. "Is there something amiss in the city?" 

"This isn't America, it's Canada. They're outside of their jurisdiction. They offered me a job," Fish said. He dumped his PDA onto the kitchen counter along with his mobile. Exasperated, he said, "I'm going to take a shower." 

Fish ignored the gobsmacked expression on Henry's face as he walked down the hallway towards the bedroom. He got undressed and tossed his sweaty clothes into the hamper. He stepped under the shower spray, turning on the water as hot as he could stand it, hoping the heat would burn away the stress. The offer itself wasn’t upsetting. Miranda and Jack’s cooperation to get rid of him was. Donovan had his personnel file. He needed to get to the bottom of what the hell was going on back in Cardiff. He heard Henry knock at the door, softly. 

"Joe? May I enter?” he called out. 

"Yeah, come in, Henry," Fish shouted over the water. 

Henry sat down on the toilet lid and asked, "You said they offered you a job?" 

Fish reached for the shampoo and began scrubbing at his hair. "Yeah, they did."

"What manner of position? Was it something in one of their laboratories?" Henry asked. 

He didn't answer Henry, he dipped his head under the shower spray to rinse the shampoo. Fish sighed softly, annoyed. Once his hair was rinsed, Fish began to soap his body, washing the sweat and dirt away. 

“When I went for my run, I got lost. While I was checking my phone, Ethan Donovan pulled up in this black car. He's been in charge of MiB for two or three years now. Probably had his agents tailing me.”

“The reason you’ve felt as if someone has been following us,” Henry noted. 

Fish nodded even though Henry couldn’t see him. “He offered me a job as deputy director."

"Second in command?" Henry exclaimed. "Your work at Torchwood must have made quite an impression on them for him to come all this way to offer you the position himself.” 

Fish started to rinse himself. He made an irritated noise and scoffed. "I was probably his last choice." 

"Nonsense, Joe! You're intelligent, experienced-"

Fish interrupted his lover's compliments. He cracked the shower door to glare him. "This isn't false modesty, Henry. I'm the least experienced on the team. Jack would never leave Torchwood and Ianto would never leave Jack. Evie's an immortal of the Game. Gwen is the next logical choice and she's got Rhys to think about. Which leaves me." 

He shut the shower door a little harder than was necessary and continued to rinse himself off. 

"That is no reason to dismiss this out of hand, Joe," Henry said, gently. 

There was no mistaking the hopefulness in his lover's tone but Henry wasn't in possession of all the facts. "I know it sounds like a step up, Henry, but it isn’t. MiB's a fucking joke. Jack's always said and the few times I've dealt with them, I'd say his assessment is harsh but accurate. Donovan said the President has given him carte blanche to fix MiB and he wants me to help him." 

"It sounds like a tremendous undertaking," Henry said. 

“It needs to be done," Fish said. He continued rinsing the soap from his skin. "MiB is shoddy and America is one of the largest and most powerful nations in the world. They're not ready for a major alien incident." 

"Are you considering this then?" Henry asked, still hopeful.

Fish turned off the shower and stepped out, accepting a towel from his boyfriend. “I’m a Torchwood field agent, Henry. Not some desk jockey in a suit.”

"I understand it is dramatically different from your work with Torchwood, but you'd be safer, Joe," Henry said. 

Fish heard the touch of desperation in his lover's voice. He tossed the towel over the shower door to dry. "I'd be fucking miserable tied behind a desk and bored out of my fucking mind." 

"I'm sure you could do other things beside managerial duties. You'd have a great deal of licence being in charge," Henry said. He added with a touch of his own annoyance, "And I'd appreciate you not taking your displeasure out on me, Joe. I want you to be safe _and_ happy. This opportunity has only just presented itself. I merely wish for you to consider all avenues."  

After taking a breath, Fish said, “You're right. I'm sorry, Henry. I’m fucking pissed. Donovan had my personnel file. He only could’ve gotten it from Jack and Evie. It feels like they’re pawning me off. Like they want to get rid of me.” 

“You should speak with them before jumping to such a conclusion, Joe,” Henry said. 

“I know. I need to call Cardiff.”  

 

Note: This is NOT the Men in Black from the Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith movies nor the comic books they're based on. It is an MiB of my own creation. 


	8. Chapter 8

After he finished his shower, Fish grabbed his mobile and shut himself into the guest room. He was lucky that when he called the Hub, Jack and Miranda were both there and available. Although, he was so irritated, he wouldn't have cared or waited for them both. He wanted to get to the bottom of this now. He didn’t even start out with friendly small talk. Instead, he launched into heated accusations.

"How could you just hand my file over to them, Jack?" Fish yelled. He lowered his voice, realising how loud he'd become. "You want to pass me off to MiB? To an agency that gets as much alien activity in a year as we get in a bloody afternoon? Is that how you think my job performance rates?” 

"Fish, calm down. Donovan rang a few days ago. He wants to fix things and he wants experienced people to help him," Jack said. He was using the same placating tone he always did and all it did was inflame his anger. 

"Why me?" Fish asked. After neither Miranda nor Jack answered him, he added, "I want the fucking truth."

"Ifan's already said no, Fish," Miranda said simply. 

"Will and I thought you'd want to think about it, that's all,” Jack said, calmly. 

"Well, I don't, Jack. I'm Torchwood," Fish said, his voice rising again. 

"No one is disputing that," Miranda said, firmly. 

"We were going to talk to you when you got back," Jack muttered. 

"Didn't expect Donovan to swoop down on me so fast, did you?” Fish demanded. Neither immortal answered him and Fish snapped, "What the fuck were you going to talk to me about?" 

Fish could almost hear Miranda's eyes narrow. Her voice was stony, "As you would say, Fish, here is 'the long and short of it.' You're the oldest field agent in the history of Torchwood."

“Oh so it’s time to put me out to pasture, Evie?" Fish shouted at nearly the top of his voice. "What the fuck Jack?!"

"Fish, calm down," Jack said, trying to talk over Fish's shouting. "This can wait until you get back-"

"No, we're going to talk about this now!" Fish shouted back, speaking over him. "If you and Evie have concerns about my performance in the field, I want to fucking know about it!" 

"You've been doing fine in the field," Jack insisted, raising his voice to be heard over Fish's objections. "Will and I are just concerned about your last few evaluations-" 

"You didn't say anything to me! How the fuck am I supposed-"

Jack interrupted, "We didn't say anything Fish because there is nothing you can do about it. It's your medical evaluation."

"So you haven't told me something that's affecting my health? What the fuck, Evie?" 

Jack and Fish continued shouting back and forth at each other, speaking at the same time. The sound of Miranda bringing her hand down onto the desk stopped their incomprehensible shouting match. Miranda hissed something at Jack in another language. 

"First off, Doctor Fischer, you will calm yourself and you will address both Captain Harkness and myself with a little more respect," Miranda said, coldly. 

Fish swallowed, convulsively. When Miranda's voice took on that kind of tone and cadence, it always made the hairs on his arm stand on end. He took a deep breath and sat down on the bed. "Sorry Evie…" 

Miranda ignored him. "Your right knee has always given you trouble. There are some degenerative changes to the joint that have slowly been worsening. But the change between your last two physicals is more than I have seen in the past. I don't think you're far from a torn meniscus." 

"So you're saying my knee is getting worse faster than it was before," Fish said, bitterly. A torn meniscus was the last thing he needed. Ripping the cartilage in his knee would mean surgery, months of physiotherapy, and possibly the end of his field clearance. 

"Right now, you're passing your evaluations, Fish," Jack interjected. "But out in the field, your knee is something that we need to strategically consider." 

"And Jack and I don't mind making allowances but situations won't always allow us to do so. We must think of not only your safety but the safety of everyone on the team." 

 _Bum knee my arse… you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with a bullet, Evie…_ Fish thought but bit back the snide remark. Every member of the team had their own weaknesses. Even though she'd been practicing for centuries, Miranda was the worst shot on the team. Jack and Ianto weren't always clear headed when it came to each other. Whenever there was trouble between her and her husband, Gwen became a nightmare. 

"You're going to fucking revoke my field clearance aren't you?" Fish snapped.  

"We're not there yet, Fish," Jack said, reassuring his technician. 

"So why try to farm me out to MiB?" Fish asked. 

"We're trying to present you with options, Fish," Miranda said, gently. "When you get back, I'm going to send you to an orthopedist. There may be more things we can do to halt or slow the damage. We can make better decisions when we know more about what your options are medically." 

"You're my doctor, Evie," Fish insisted. He heard the rift alarm go off in the background 

"Have fun in Canada, Fish," Jack said. "Gotta run. Give my love to Henry and I'll see you when you get back. Stay here, Will. Yan and I got this."   

"Be careful, Jack," Miranda said, it sounded far away and Fish could almost see her shouting over her shoulder. “Fish, I am sorry Director Donovan has given you the impression that Jack and I are attempting to hand you over to them. That is far from the truth.” 

He sighed loudly. "I'm sorry, Evie. Donovan just showed up and threw this bollocks in my lap,” he sighed again. "I don't want to lose my field clearance." 

"We're not there yet, Fish. We'll see what the orthopedist says and take things from there. One bridge at a time, my friend.” In the background, Fish could hear the sound of Jack's desk chair squeaking as she spoke. “When Donovan rang the day after you left, he wanted to speak with Ifan. After If an said no, he asked for your file. We wanted to give you options since your circumstances have changed.” 

"Why not you or Gwen?" 

"Donovan doesn't think his agents will accept female leadership," Miranda said. "My unique nature also prohibits me from working for other agencies. I will not allow MiB to discover my immortality or the Game."

Fish rolled his eyes and said, “Oh, he thinks they won’t accept a woman, but they’re going to accept me? The gay lab geek?” 

Miranda continued, "Fish, listen to me. I know you don't want to think about this but I'm telling you, as your friend, you should. We'd hate to lose you to MiB, but you'd be doing good work. By the Gods, MiB needs a serious overhaul." 

"I'd be bored out of my mind, Evie," he groaned.

"You're a man of order, Fish. MiB is a disaster. Likely, it needs to be rebuilt in its entirety. I doubt you'd find such work boring," she said and then yawned. "Are you having a good time?" 

"Yeah, great," he said, flatly. 

"You should relax and enjoy yourself, Fish," Miranda said. "Go see that space needle thing."

"That's Seattle, Evie. I'm in Vancouver," Fish said with an eye roll. "They're not even in the same bloody country." 

"Well, whichever," she said with a laugh. "Tell Henry I said hello. Have a good evening, Fish." 

"Bye, Evie," Fish said as he disconnected the call. He dropped the phone onto the bed and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

With another sigh, he got up and picked up his mobile. He went out into the kitchen and grabbed a beer. He started rummaging for a bottle opener, but changed his mind. Instead, he crossed over to Henry's liquor cabinet. He opened the small cupboard and looked at the dusty bottles with confusion. None of them were labeled. He picked up the first bottle in front. He tugged the cork out and took an experimental sniff. _Brandy…_ He replaced the bottle and took out another one, again, tugging out the cork and taking a sniff. _Scotch…_ _Perfect_ … He poured a generous amount into one of Henry's crystal tumblers and put the bottle away. He plopped down onto the sofa with his drink and scrubbed at his face, one handed. He sat there, with his eyes closed for a while, thinking, trying to push aside his feelings and bruised ego. He leaned forward and put the glass down on the coffee table. His eyes went wide. Henry's broadsword was resting on the coffee table, but his lover was nowhere in sight. Unless he and Henry lustfully stumbled from one room to another, Henry and his sword were always in the same room. 

"Henry?" he called out, a bit alarmed. “Henry!”

"Joe?" Henry walked out of the hallway. He was drying his hands. “What's the matter?" 

Fish closed his eyes with relief. "You scared me."  

"What? Why? I was just using the loo,” he said, jerking his head over his shoulder. 

Fish nodded towards the sword on the coffee table. "You left that in here." 

"I'm sorry. Mao-Lin would scold me, but I don't often carry it with me when I just need the toilet," he said as he sat down next to him on the sofa. "Are you all right, Joe? I heard you shouting." 

Fish lifted the tumbler to his lips and drank. His eyes widened. He was not a fan of scotch, but this was the best scotch he'd ever had. It was smooth, like ambrosia silk going down his throat. He took another appreciative sip and turned his mind back to Henry's question. 

"It could have gone better," he said with a rueful chuckle. Not only was the scotch good, it was strong. He could feel the warmth spreading already. 

In another tradition that began in Paris, the two men passed the single glass back and forth, sharing it between them. Henry took the glass from Fish, taking a small sip and passing it back to him. He turned towards Fish with his leg bent and rested his hand on Fish's thigh. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

"I just got a nice heavy fucking dose of reality I could’ve gone without," he said, not bothering to hide his bitterness. Fish took another sip and passed the glass to Henry to hold. "Donovan rang the day I came here, offered Ianto the deputy director position and when Ianto said no, asked for my file. Jack and Evie gave it to him."

"You assumed you weren't Donovan's first choice," Henry interjected with a one shouldered shrug. 

"Jack and Evie said they wanted to give me 'options' since, and I quote Evie here, I'm 'the oldest field agent in the history of Torchwood.’” 

Henry winced at his former teacher's bluntness. "Mao-Lin certainly could use a lesson in tact…" 

"No, she's right, Henry," Fish admitted. He took the glass back and took a more healthy sip. His already bruised ego was taking another hit looking at Henry's perpetual youth. The large text size on his kindle, his time in the Cardiff marathon, his knee, the grey in his hair… Fish was turning into an old man. He smiled, inwardly, as he remembered a line from one of his favourite films. _Honey? Time marches on and eventuality you realise it's marching across your face…_  

"She's right. Jack's right. Being a Torchwood field agent is a job for the young and I'm not as young as I used to be. Fuck all, I wasn't as young as I used to be when I started this bloody job. I wasn't supposed to be in the field as much as I am, I was supposed to be only back up." 

"Perhaps Captain Harkness and Mao-Lin should consider hiring more staff," Henry pointed out. 

"Jack's always wanted to keep Torchwood Cardiff small," Fish pointed out. He looked down into their glass. Even though Henry knew what he did for a living and knew about Torchwood and aliens, Fish was always trying to evaluate how much Henry's sixteenth century brain could manage. Jack kept Torchwood Cardiff small because he never wanted a repeat of London and Canary Wharf. Fish decided not to tell Henry about a near apocalyptic event. "He has his reasons, Henry." 

His lover nodded. "Are they planning on taking you out of the field? Is that why they wanted to give you the option to take this position?" 

"They're not ready to take me out of the field yet but Evie said that my knee is getting worse and she wants a specialist to take a look at it when I get back to Cardiff. They wanted to give me options because… because now I have you.” 

“You have said before you do not wish to give up your job,” Henry said, shrugging. He took the glass from Fish’s hand and took a large sip. He cleared his throat and, hesitantly, said, "Are you reconsidering this job with MiB now that you have spoken with your superiors?" 

"I wasn't at first. Donovan offered me the job and I just said no. Now… yeah, I'm thinking about it," Fish said, shaking his head. He took the tumbler from Henry for another sip. He slumped back a little on the sofa. "There's no way I could stay in Cardiff or even the UK. I'd have to move to America. MiB has some government oversight so I'd probably have to move to the Washington DC area. There are offices all over America so there'd probably be a lot of traveling…" 

Henry crossed his arms over his chest and furrowed his brow at him. "It's futile to give this any serious thought, Joe, when you're unaware of any specifics. You're only guessing." 

After scrubbing at his face, Fish sighed. "You're right. I do this all the time. I get a big decision tossed in my lap and I think it to death." 

Henry gave Fish the slightly bemused expression that always melted Fish's heart. His lover's eyes sparkled with mischief and there was a slight upturn to the corners of Henry's mouth. Fish found it even more adorable with the crossed arms. 

"Our relationship being the exception to the rule," Fish added with a mock eye roll. He scrubbed at his face again, running his fingers through his hair for good measure. He let out a small scoff. "I can't believe I asked you to move to Cardiff and now I'm thinking about taking a job in America." 

Henry shifted on the sofa again. He uncrossed his arms and reached for Fish's hand. His expression softened, his eyes full of love and promise. "I love you, Joe. I will follow you where ever your life takes you, for as long as you'll have me."

Fish squeezed Henry's hand. "I love you too."

"You've had a trying day, love. We should get some food into you. I also think you've had enough of this," Henry said, nodding at the tumbler. 

"You're right," Fish sighed. He handed the tumbler to Henry who took it into the kitchen. “That’s amazing stuff, by the way. I don’t even like whiskey.” 

Henry smiled and said, “It is one of my special bottles.” He paused, waving towards the cabinet. “Mao-Lin brought several to me and Matthew when she visited us as a gift. This is the last bottle that remains.” 

Fish’s eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, Henry. I didn’t realise!” 

“Don’t apologise, love. It’s there to be enjoyed.” Henry downed the last of the glass. “Its flavour has changed a great deal.” He stared at the empty glass, a strange look on his face. 

Fish stood up and went over to his boyfriend. He put a hand on his arm. Henry jumped a little. 

“You’re miles away,” Fish said, softly. 

“A pleasant memory,” Henry replied. He rinsed the tumbler and put it into the dishwasher. “Would you like something to eat, love?” 

Assuming Henry wasn’t going to elaborate further, Fish accepted the change in subject. “Food sounds fantastic." 

Fish unplugged his phone from its charger while Henry arranged their sandwiches onto plates. When he put the sandwich down in front of Fish and handed him the phone, his lover smiled. He picked up half of his sandwich and switched it with half of Henry's. 

"What did you get?" Fish asked, peering under the bread. 

"It's chicken salad," Henry said, sitting down. 

While the two of them ate, Fish tapped out a text to Miranda, apologising again for his behaviour and requesting MiB's contact information and protocols. He looked up at the clock. It was a bit late for lunch but it was likely still early enough to contact Donovan and find out more about this job. His food sat in front of him, largely ignored. 

"Are you not hungry, Joe?" Henry asked, wiping his mouth. 

"I'm going to ring Donovan soon. I'm just nervous I guess," Fish said. 

Henry paused, his hand around his water glass. He raised an eyebrow at Fish. "I'm certain you don't need to rush things." 

"'Never put off till tomorrow what can be done today,'" Fish quoted. He took a healthy bite out of his sandwich, trying to get some food into him.  

"Thomas Jefferson," Henry said, automatically. 

"And trust me, I won't be able to get it out of my head until I do." 

Henry stood up with his own empty plate. He reached out and snatched Fish's plate from him.  

"Hey!" Fish cried. 

"You're forcing it down and you're going to give yourself a stomach ache," Henry insisted. He headed for the kitchen. He added sternly, "Go make your phone call, love." 

Fish picked up his mobile. Instead of sitting down on the sofa, he walked into the kitchen to give a quick peck on the cheek. Guiltily, he left Henry to do the washing up alone. As Henry wrapped the uneaten portion of the sandwiches, Fish sat back down on the sofa. When Miranda’s texts came through, Fish rolled his eyes and exclaimed, "They're fucking taking the piss!" 

"Something the matter, love?" Henry asked loudly from the kitchen. He dried his hands and wandered over to where Fish was sitting.  

"Bloody American theatrical bollocks," Fish said, shaking his head. "Listen to this nonsense…"

He dialed the phone number Miranda had sent him. Knowing he was doing something that could get him tossed into a UNIT prison, Fish still put the phone call on speaker. He wanted a witness to make sure he wasn't imagining what he was about to do. It rang twice before it was answered. 

A voice calmly said, "The geese fly south for the winter…" 

"It's always winter somewhere," Fish added, feeling ridiculous. He looked up at Henry who was staring down at him wide eyed. His eyebrows were raised nearly to his hairline and there was a grimace on the rest of his face. 

The voice said, mechanically, "The supreme art of war…" 

"… is to subdue the enemy without fighting," Fish finished. He felt like he'd been dropped into a bad movie. This was his first time contacting MiB directly. Whenever he’d dealt with them in the past, it had been through Ianto or Miranda. Was this truly what a person had to do through just to get someone on the phone? 

"Code in please," the mechanical voice asked. 

 _Fucking finally…_ "Fischer, Joseph. Torchwood authorisation india two one seven, victor echo, six two two three." 

"Code verified, hold please, Doctor Fischer. Director Donovan is expecting your call." 

Once the awful hold music began to play, he took the phone call off speaker and raised his mobile to his ear. He looked up at Henry and said, "And they bloody wonder why the whole fucking world thinks they're a joke…" 

Henry opened his mouth as if to say something but shut it again. He shook his head. 

"Like your ex, Joe, I believe they have been watching too many films," Henry said as he shook his head again, walking away. 

"Doctor Fischer?" came the bright voice. 

"Director Donovan, good morning," Fish said, trying to keep his annoyance out of his voice. He leaned back and crossed his legs, trying to relax. 

"I'm glad to hear from you," Donovan said. "I'm surprised that you've made a decision so fast." 

"I haven't decided anything yet, Director," Fish corrected. "This is a big decision. I need more information." 

"Anything you'd like to know, Doctor Fischer. I'm happy you're giving this serious consideration. I can have my PA forward you any salary and benefit details."

"Thank you, Director, but that isn't the only information I need. I need to know exactly what you want, what your expectations are and how this is going to work." 

With a sigh, Donovan said, "It might sound overly simplistic, but what I need is for you to help me fix things. You get more aliens in Cardiff than we do. You got years of experience with Torchwood and that's experience we need. When I got the report from Doctor Ryan about that the alien parasite, I realised that my organisation is completely incapable of handling a situation like that." 

Fish shifted uncomfortably. The capture of Gareth Harding had been far from easy. "We have a fraction of America's surface area, Director Donovan. In the time it took us to track Gareth Harding and Jessica Rees, there were numerous deaths. We also have resources that aren't available in America, our camera system for example." 

"No need for the false modesty," Donovan insisted. "There aren't just cracks that things can fall through at MiB, there are canyons. We need better training, procedures and protocols. Like I said, Doctor Fischer. I'm willing to rebuild from the ground up if I have to. I know that too often disaster has to strike before there's change and then it's too late." 

"I'm sorry, Director. You've been in charge of MiB for years, why the sudden change of heart?" 

"Took me a while to realise how bad things were, but it didn't take me long to figure out I can't fix it alone," Donovan said sadly. "I'm doing a spot check of our western office in Seattle, Doctor Fischer. Why don't you come down? Take a gander?" 

"Director, I'm afraid I simply don't have the time," Fish insisted. He was in Canada to visit Henry not to go investigating a job he wasn't even sure he wanted. 

Donovan quickly said, "I'm not suggesting days. I'd send an MiB chopper for you early tomorrow morning and you'd be back in Vancouver after lunch." 

"Director-" Fish broke off as he felt Henry's hand on his arm. "Excuse me, Director Donovan, just a minute, please." He muted his phone call and gave Henry a curious look. "What is it, Henry?"

"If you need to take a day to look into this, Joe, you should," Henry insisted. 

"This is _our_ time, Henry," Fish objected. 

Henry shook his head and held his ground. "It will be easier for you to look into this now, while you're here, instead of after you return to Cardiff." 

Fish didn't want to waste time in Seattle, but Henry was right. If he got all the way back to Cardiff, it would be nearly impossible to return. If he did manage it, he'd want to see Henry not visit MiB for a job he didn’t even think he wanted. Maybe he could change his return ticket? Would Jack and Miranda be fine without him for another day?

"Henry, do you mind ringing Evie? Ask her if they can do without me for another day. If she says it's all right, ring the airline? See if they'll change my return ticket. If I'm going to lose a day to this, I'm spending another day here with you." 

Henry nodded and stepped away for his mobile phone. Fish took the call off mute and said, "Sorry about that Director. I was just speaking with my boyfriend a minute."

"That's fine. I understand you're on vacation that you don't want to give up your time together. I wish I spent more time at home. I travel too much. I try hard not to be some name without a face. My wife says I am a micromanager," Donovan said with regret.  

"Hence your need for a deputy director?" Fish joked. 

Donovan laughed. "It's your experience I need, Doctor Fischer, not someone to dump my workload on." 

"Do you have children?" Fish asked, trying to make small talk while he waited for Henry. 

"I do. Two daughters and a son. My wife and I are shipping our youngest off to college this fall."

"Which university?" 

"Georgetown," Donovan said, with pride. "She wants to be a lawyer like her mother. My son is a lawyer too. My other daughter is a UN translator, Arabic." 

"You must be very proud," Fish said with a smile. 

"I am. It might sound like a cliche but I do my work to keep my family safe," Donovan said.

Henry tapped Fish on the shoulder and nodded. Fish nodded back. "Director? My boyfriend was just speaking to Doctor Ryan and changing my travel arrangements. Tomorrow morning will be fine."

"Wonderful! I'll send the chopper to meet you at the helipad of Vancouver General Hospital, Doctor Fischer. One of my men'll meet you at the front entrance at eight. Have a safe flight and I will see you tomorrow." 

"Thank you, Director," Fish said. 

"No, thank you, Doctor Fischer. And a special thank you to your boyfriend, for giving up some of his time with you,” Donovan said and then Fish heard the sound of the call being disconnected. 

Henry sat down next to Fish. "Mao-Lin sends her love. I changed your return ticket to Wednesday." 

Fish raised his eyebrow. "I was supposed to leave Monday, Henry." 

"I know," Henry admitted. He gave a nervous fidget. "When Mao-Lin told me of a dip in rift activity around your scheduled return, I asked her if two days would be permissible. I'm sorry I didn't ask you first. I… I selfishly wanted more time with you." 

"S'ok, Henry, I wasn't angry. I want more time here too." He slid across the sofa and draped his leg over Henry's and put his arm around him. "Do you want me to ring Donovan back? I could-"

"No, Joe," Henry interrupted. "You should investigate this opportunity fully." 

Fish nodded. If he lost his field clearance with Torchwood, what was the difference between being stuck in the Hub tinkering with tech and being stuck behind a desk fixing MiB? Either way he'd be out of the field. At least at MiB he wouldn't have to watch as the rest of the team dashed about while he stayed behind. America experienced far fewer alien issues. Aside from half a dozen or so resident aliens and riftugees who'd relocated there and the occasional piece of space junk dropping onto American soil, without a rift, America was practically alien free. It was one of the reasons MiB was in such a state, they had no experience. 

Henry was one of the reasons he was seriously considering the position. Donovan had made a valid point yesterday. Fish could live to a ripe old age, he and Henry could have decades together. But would he become miserable? Would it be as boring and as tedious as he was imagining? Or worse, would he end up resenting Henry because he was giving up Torchwood for him? There were too many questions and not enough answers. He'd have more information tomorrow. 

"I'm sorry I'm taking time away from us for this," Fish said, very guilty. 

Henry fidgeted nervously again and said, "I am not seeing it that way at all Joe." 

Henry's face became serious and pensive. Fish recognised the expression. Henry was thinking about what to say. When Henry finally did speak, he spoke slowly with a deliberate manner that Fish had learned meant he was still trying to decide how to word something delicately. 

"Joe, I am not ignorant of Torchwood's dangers. I know the nature of your work is more than extremely dangerous. I know…" Henry trailed off, hesitating. He closed his eyes and swallowed. "I know we will have only a few short years together." 

Fish felt a lump form in his throat. They weren't just taking a peek at the elephant in the room. They were staring at it with a fucking magnifying glass! Fish had come to terms with his short life expectancy early on in his Torchwood career. No one had painted a rosy picture for him when he'd accepted the job. They'd all been clear. Inside of ten years, he would be dead. It hadn't bothered Fish because he was making a real difference with his life, but that was before he'd entwined himself with someone else. He went to open his mouth, but Henry held up his hand. "Let me finish, Joe, please. I know that Captain Harkness and Mao-Lin do their best to protect you and the others but they cannot be everywhere at every moment. I… I have tried to accept this and respect your choices. If I were not as I am, I would have died nearly five hundred years ago and would never have known you at all. I have tried to be grateful for what time we will have. I have tried not to mourn you while you are with me nor punish you for the fact that one day soon…" Henry's voice cracked. He broke off, not trusting himself to continue. He pressed his lips together, and took a few slow deep breaths through his nose before he continued. "Should you choose another path, one that doesn't involve the dangers of Torchwood, I would be grateful. But do not allow my selfishness to sway your decision." 

His lover's change in heart was now clear. He was trying to respect Fish's life choices and didn't want to sway his decision with guilt. After a small nod from Henry, Fish said, "That's a load of bollocks there, Henry. How can I not feel guilty about what my death is going to do to you?" 

"Because, Joe, you are mortal. Your life is your own to do with as you will," Henry said. He shook his head. "I have time to waste, you do not." 

Fish lifted Henry's head and glared at him, a bit angry. "You and Evie are too fucking maudlin. All evidence to the contrary, I don't have a death wish. I'm not oblivious, Henry. I see the grief in your eyes when you look at me sometimes. If you don't think that affects me, you're wrong. When I'm about to touch something at work that could blow my head off or I run after a Weevil, you're the first thing I think about now. I can't ignore that and it's not right for me to. Just because you're immortal and I'm not doesn't mean I get to just ignore what that brings to our relationship. I'm going to Seattle tomorrow morning. I'll see what I'd be getting myself into. I'm going to do a lot of thinking and we're going to do a lot of talking. All right?" 

Henry nodded. He wrapped his arms around Fish, tugging him in close. Fish could feel the sadness rolling off of Henry in waves, his face was buried in Fish's chest. Henry was taking in deep lungfuls of Fish's aftershave, trying to memorise the intoxicating smell. 

"Hey? What happened to not mourning me while I'm still alive," Fish chastised, lightly. He tightened his arms around Henry and kissed the top of his head. 

"Easier said than done, love," Henry said softly. He looked up, staring into Fish's eyes. It was a look Fish had seen before, love and grief and goodbye all mixed together.

Fish ran his fingers through Henry's hair, feeling his own sadness. _I wish I could live forever with you…_  

“Henry… I’m not… You’d be able to tell if-” 

Henry shook his head. “I would be able to sense if you were a pre-born… which you are not. And for that I am relieved. I would rather us grow old together and follow each other into the darkness beyond.” 

He didn't want them both to succumb to the sadness. He decided to take a page out of Jack's book. He ran his fingers along Henry's shoulder. "How about a distraction?" 

A touch of mischief came alive in Henry's eyes. He dipped his head, nuzzling his nose into Fish's neck. "What did you have in mind?" 

As Henry's lips ghosted over his skin, the shock of desire Fish felt had his eyes rolling back into his head. He let out a moan as Henry latched his mouth onto the skin.   

"I need you," Henry whispered, his voice low and husky. Henry grabbed for Fish's belt, undoing the buckle as fast as he could. 

"Henry, slow down," Fish replied. He'd wanted to drag his lover off to the bedroom and spend the rest of their evening slowly making love but it wasn't working out that way. Fish tried to slow things down, reaching for Henry's hands but, with surprising strength, Henry flipped them with a low growl that went straight to Fish's cock. He pinned Fish to the sofa and attacked his neck again. 

"Shut up, Joe," Henry snapped. He yanked Fish's t-shirt up, almost ripping it. 

It was time for Fish to just sit back and enjoy the ride. This was the first time Fish had seen Henry this sexually aggressive. Sure, the man knew what he wanted and wasn't embarrassed about asking for it, but this was hot. 

The feeling of denim scraping against his thighs brought Fish back to reality. His jeans were down around his knees and Henry's talented mouth was enveloping him. He brought his hand down, twining it in Henry's hair as his breath hitched in his throat. Henry was good. He was too good. Embarrassingly quick, Fish shouted and came. His head slammed backwards into the sofa arm as his back arched. Completely spent, Fish was panting with his eyes shut, stunned. 

"Holy fuck, Henry…" he gasped. He cracked his eyes open, wondering how he could possibly reciprocate when he felt so utterly boneless. As he looked down, he noticed a wet spattering on the leg of his jeans. Henry's own jeans were undone and he was holding his come covered hand aside. 

Henry blushed. "I was a bit impatient." 

Fish sat up and seized Henry's hand. He ran his tongue along the palm and sucked the fingers clean as Henry moaned. Without bothering to right his clothing, Fish laid back on the sofa and pulled Henry on top of him. He kissed him, tasting the two of them mixed on his lips. Henry pillowed his head on Fish's chest and slid his hand up under his t-shirt. His fingers gently brushed against the skin through the hair. 

"You mentioned something about a distraction?" Henry asked. 

"Huh?" Fish grunted, dumbly. He was nearly falling asleep in his post orgasmic haze. 

"Earlier, you mentioned something about a distraction?" Henry asked with a smile.

"Give me a few minutes, I'll mention it again and we can do that the other way round," Fish muttered. He wrapped his arms around Henry and hugged him tightly. He didn't want to move or think. He just wanted to lay there with Henry in his arms and the taste of him on his lips. It would be so nice to just drift off to sleep… 

Henry kissed the tip of Fish's nose and Fish cracked one of his eyes at him. He was giving Fish that bemused look he loved so much. 

"You're falling asleep, love," Henry said, eye sparkling. 

"I was going to drag you off to the bedroom but your idea was better," Fish said. 

Henry let out a soft chuckle. "There is still time for that, love." 

Fish was about to do just that when his stomach rumbled loudly. "Maybe I should have finished my sandwich." 

Henry let out another chuckle. "You do need to keep up your strength." 

Fish gasped as Henry latched his mouth onto his nipple through his t-shirt. Henry stood up and helped Fish to his feet. The two of them cleaned themselves up and, after Fish finished his aborted lunch, they both stumbled towards the bedroom. 

It was late when they finally collapsed after two more rounds of love making. They laid in the bed against each other, sore, sated and sticky, trying to catch their breath. Exhausted, Fish could barely move. He couldn't remember ever being so content. He wanted to do nothing more than drown himself this man he loved so much. 

"Christ, I really can't get enough of you," he said. 

Henry was lazily kissing every inch of skin he could reach without moving. "I'll take that as a compliment." 

Fish smiled, gathering Henry in his arms. "I love you." 

"I love you too." 

Being with Henry was unlike anything Fish had ever known. He felt as if a whole new dimension to sex was opening up to him. He was enjoying exploring it and learning how to please Henry, but there was still some uncharted territory for Fish. After clearing his throat, Fish pushed away some of his embarrassment and said, "You know… Henry… we could switch things around… try something different?" 

Henry lifted his head and cocked an eyebrow at him. His eyes were twinkling. "Are you bored already, Joe?" 

"No. No, I'm not bored. I just… If you wanted…" Fish stammered and then nearly blurted, "I wouldn't mind doing things the other way round." 

Henry blinked at him. Twice. "I didn't think that would be something you'd want, Joe." 

"Why not?" Fish asked. He was a little hurt that Henry felt he wouldn't reciprocate anything they did in bed together. 

"I did not think it would be something with which you would be comfortable," Henry said honestly. He curled his hand into a fist on Fish's chest and propped his chin on it. 

"Bollocks. In for a penny…" Fish said, trailing off. 

"That isn't why you should consider this, Joe. I don't want you to feel obligated to reciprocate something that isn't what you want," Henry warned. He said, seriously, "I find our sex life most gratifying." 

"Okay, it's not exactly on my bucket list, Henry, but I'm definitely curious," Fish said. He ran his hands through Henry's hair. "You enjoy it." 

Henry shrugged and said, “Each individual has their own preferences-and though I hate the phrase-bottoming is mine." 

Fish squashed his embarrassment at the term but forced the word out. “You hate the word ‘bottoming’?” 

Henry rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide his distaste. "I despise the implication of inferiority and weakness. It is a stereotypical view of masculinity and absurdly narrow view of the male gender role. Don’t get me started on the pejorative concept of being submissive and being penetrated as effeminate. Then there is the implication of being feminine and womanly as an insult-” 

"Woah, back up, Henry," Fish said with a small laugh. "Those were some heavy twenty first century concepts for a sixteenth century bloke." 

Henry quirked an eyebrow at him. 

"Seriously, let's back up here," Fish said. He scrunched upward, kissing the tip of Henry's nose. "First off, just because I'm not the one taking it up the arse doesn't mean I look at you as being weak or submissive. And second, I wouldn't be bringing this up if it wasn't something I wanted to try.” 

"I never thought you believed me weak, Joe," Henry corrected. "If this is something you want, then I'm willing to explore it with you. It's not to be rushed." 

"Another night, you've completely worn me out," Fish said with a weak laugh. "I don't think I could get it up again if my life depended on it." He frowned. “Though I guess for what I’m suggesting it’s not strictly required.” 

Henry let out a laugh. "I wasn't suggesting tonight, love. It's late and you have to be up early. I love you."

"I love you, too," Fish said. 

With his arms around Henry, Fish let his exhaustion finally win and the two lovers carried each other to sleep. 


	9. Chapter 9

With a groan, Fish rolled over and slapped at the alarm clock. His hand encountered nothing but the nightstand. He blinked, looking around for the source of the noise. It had been the first time he’d heard any alarm clock since he’d gotten to Vancouver. The clock was on Henry's side of the bed. His lover reached over and turned the alarm off. Henry was about to get out of the bed, but Fish captured him around the waist. 

"Just a few more minutes," he whispered, tugging Henry close. 

"We should get cleaned up," Henry said. "You don't want to be late." 

Fish let out a frustrated groan and then sighed. "No, I suppose I don't." 

The two of them shared the shower, managing to keep their hands off of each other. The only thing that was keeping Fish from taking Henry up against the tiles was the clock on the shower wall. Not for the first time, Fish wondered at how physically drawn to Henry he was. Standing there, watching the water cascade down Henry's muscular body made Fish's throat go dry. Fish had never found another man sexually attractive. Sure, he'd recognised good looks in other men, but never in a sexual way and certainly never in a way that stirred his own desire. Fish could scarcely restrain himself around Henry.

When they were done, they stood side by side in front of the dual sinks. Their morning routines were in the opposite order, something that amused Fish to no end. Fish saw to his hair first before it had a chance to dry while Henry shaved first. Shaving was the last thing Fish did in the morning. 

"Can I use some of that?" Fish asked, pointing at the gel. 

"Of course, Joe," Henry said, sliding the tub towards his lover. "Use it sparingly. A little goes a long way." 

Fish ran the gel through his hair, slicking it backwards. He parted it down the middle rather than on the side as he usually did. He caught Henry eyeing him in the mirror as he shaved. 

"What?" Fish asked, nervous. "You don't like it?" 

"It's different," Henry said, wiping his straight razor. 

"Sometimes when I part it on the side, I think it makes me look like a kid," Fish said with a shrug. After brushing his teeth, he turned to his face. He glanced at the clock. He still had plenty of time. He took out his disposable razor and laid it out the rest of the items for his shave. 

"I don't know how you use one of those things, Joe," Henry remarked around his own toothbrush. He jerked his chin at the disposable razor after he spat into the sink. "They clog and the razor burn is dreadful."

"Not if you get the right cream," he said as he portioned out a pea sized bit of shaving gel into his hands. He added some water and started to lather it across his face. He gave his lover a bemused look. "Can you even get razor burn?" 

"Wait a minute, Joe," Henry said, taking Fish's razor from his hand. "We want you looking your best." 

"What are you doing, Henry?" Fish asked. He gave Henry a nervous look as his lover began stropping the straight razor. 

"Sit," Henry said, waving at the loo. 

Once Fish closed the toilet lid and sat down, Henry asked, playfully, ”Do you trust me, love?" 

"Always," Fish said. He was smiling, but his voice was serious. 

"Don't move," Henry commanded playfully, with a wink and a smile of his own.

Henry swiped the razor along his cheek and Fish winced. 

"Christ, those things make me nervous," Fish said, leaning back a bit when Henry wiped the razor on a towel. 

Henry furrowed his brow at his lover. "Why?"

"You’ve never seen Sweeny Todd have you?" Fish chuckled. 

"Ah, their association with horror films," Henry said with a raised eyebrow. "Not a genre I'm overly fond of." 

"You don't like horror, but you watch those rubbish crime dramas?" Fish asked. 

"I enjoy comedies as well,” Henry said, running the razor along Fish's neck. "'A day without laughter is a day wasted'."

"Charlie Chaplin," Fish said, automatically. 

Henry gave Fish a warm smile and ran the razor along the curve of Fish's chin. "I wonder if I shall ever be able to catch you without a reference, love." 

He stayed absolutely still as Henry shaved him. He had to admit the straight razor felt far less irritating than his disposable. After one last swipe, Henry wiped Fish's face with the towel. 

"Go ahead, take a look," Henry said. 

Fish got up and examined his reflection. Henry had done a superb job. He ran his fingers over his face, feeling the smooth skin. "Wow." 

"'Sometimes the old ways are best'," Henry said. 

"Skyfall," Fish said. 

Henry laughed. "I didn't take you for a Bond fan, Joe."

“I’m not. Ianto is," Fish said, as he applied his aftershave. He raised an eyebrow. It burned much less than it usually did. He wondered how hard it would be to learn how to use that straight razor. "We went to see the last movie together. Jack wouldn't see it a third time with him. I don’t like the new actor." 

"Daniel Craig?" Henry asked, putting his razor away. "That man is positively delectable, Joe!" 

"The only man I find delectable is you," Fish said with an eye roll. With the towel around his waist, he stepped into the walk in closet with Henry behind him. He held up the new suits, looking back and forth between them unable to decide on one. 

"Which one do you think, Henry?" 

"The charcoal one, love," he said. 

With a crooked smile, Fish handed his tie over to Henry. Henry took it from him, smiling as well. He flipped Fish's collar up, letting his fingertips brush along his jaw. The crooked smile didn't leave Fish's face the whole time. _Christ, when did I turn into such a girl…_ Fish wondered as he watched Henry knot his tie, his heart thundering in his chest. Henry smiled the whole time. He tighten the tie and flipped Fish's collar back down, again brushing his fingertips along Fish's jaw. He pinched the knot between his fingers, straightening and adjusting it. 

"There you are, love," Henry said with a smile. 

Fish held Henry's hands. "I love you, Henry." 

"And I you." Henry kissed the tip of Fish's nose. "Let me get my keys."

The drive to the hospital was incredibly short, in fact, Fish could have walked. Henry parked the car and Fish shifted in the passenger seat, a little unfamiliar with the feel of his clothes. The only time Fish wore a suit was when he had meetings in London with Ianto or Miranda. He had no idea how Ianto managed to do his job in one of these day after day. _Suppose you get used to it…_ Fish got out of the car and went around to the driver's side. Henry rolled down the window and Fish leaned in, giving Henry a quick peck on the cheek. 

"I'll walk when I get back," Fish said.

"That's not necessary, Joe. I can pick you up," Henry protested. 

"No, it's fine. By the time I ring and you come get me, I could have just walked home. I could have walked now," Fish said, waving behind him. The drive had been scarcely five minutes. 

Henry reached up and straightened Fish's tie. He kissed the back of Fish's hand. "I'll see you later. Be careful, love." 

Fish rolled his eyes and lowered his voice. "There won't be so much as an alien toaster, Henry." 

Henry reached up and affectionately straightened his tie again. Fish backed away from the car, blushing a bit. He waved, watching Henry drive away just as a young man dressed in a black suit walked over to him. He looked at the car and then at Fish. Maybe Fish was reading too much into it, but there was a bit of contempt in the young man's face and voice. 

"Doctor Fischer?" he asked. 

"Yes," Fish answered, extending his hand. 

"Agent Doug Borel. Good to meet you," he said as he shook Fish's hand. He lifted up his own PDA so Fish could speak into it. "Your code please?

"Fischer, Joseph. Torchwood authorisation india two one seven, victor echo, six two two three," Fish recited. 

"One sec," Borel said as he tapped a few buttons. "And that's… verified. Great. Follow me please, Doctor Fischer?" 

No, Fish wasn't reading him wrong, there was contempt in the young man's voice. Was it directed at Torchwood or was it directed at him and Henry? Annoyed, Fish followed him through the hospital doors and into the lift. He tried to calm himself down. It wouldn't do to be on the defensive straightaway. They rode it up to the top most floor and then turned down a hallway. Fish continued to follow as Agent Borel pushed open a door marked 'Staff Only'. A hospital security guard met them on the other side of the door and escorted them up to the helipad to the waiting helicopter. 

Surprised, Fish said, "I hope you lot aren't holding up someone getting a kidney." 

Borel shook his head and smiled. "No, Doctor Fischer. I signaled for the chopper to land when you arrived."

Bending low, Fish got into the helicopter and buckled himself in. He accepted the headset from Borel and slipped it on. This wasn't his first time in a helicopter. He'd had the occasion to ride in some of UNIT's when consulting for that agency. It wasn't his favourite way to travel. Fish preferred to keep his feet on the ground or at least inside of a plane where there was a wall between him and the open air. The ride was at least scenic. Fish could see the Pacific ocean as they flew towards Seattle. The Space Needle came into focus and grew larger and larger. _There I've seen the Space Needle thing, Evie…_ The pilot landed the helicopter on the roof of a parking structure. 

Fish unbuckled himself and dumped his headset onto the seat. Borel helped him from the helicopter and led him to the stairwell, politely holding the door open. They descended to the ground floor. He assumed they'd be meeting some sort of car, but Fish was wrong. Borel led him to the lifts and hit the 'up' button. When the doors open, he ushered Fish inside and inserted a key into the panel. The lift lights changed colour, becoming red. He watched as Borel tapped on the numbers in what appeared to be a random sequence and then remove the key. The lift began to descend and then stopped. Fish had no idea how far down they'd gone. 

The speaker in the lift came to life. "Code in please." 

"Agent Douglas J. Borel, four four seven, dash six zero one four eight two," he said smoothly. 

The speaker's front plate popped off and Borel bent down, opening his eyes wide. Fish raised an eyebrow as the scanner read Borel's retinas. _At least there were no cliche code phrases…_ It was all very similar to Torchwood's front. Fish had a few options, but his most common choice was the Hub garage which required a passcode and key.

As the lift doors opened, Borel said with pride, "Doctor Fischer, welcome to Men in Black." 

It wasn't as cavernous as the Hub, but it certainly wasn't small. There were maybe a dozen people at their workstations and Fish thought that they all looked bored. They perked up when they heard the sound of an office door shutting. Fish recognised Ethan Donovan without his fedora. 

"Doctor Fischer, I'm glad you could make it down," he said, holding out his hand. 

"Director Donovan," Fish said. And he had to admit, "Your front is excellent." 

"Well, it's no tourist office," Donovan said with a wry smile. 

Fish laughed and returned Donovan's smile. "Is this your typical field office?" 

"Yes. We have one field office for each of the ten standard Federal Regions of the country. This office serves Washington, Idaho, Oregon and Alaska. Alaska has its own satellite office. There are ten employees per office-five regular field agents, two scientists, two medical personnel-one doctor and one nurse-and one technician. We try to do as much cross training as we can," Donovan explained. 

He led Fish through the section of cubicles. Every person had the distinctive look of someone with nothing to do who was trying to look as busy as possible. Fish felt sorry for them. A rat faced man with a large nose scurried over, looking extremely nervous. 

"Ah, Doctor Fischer, I'd like for you to meet Agent in Charge Jeremy Alper," Donovan said, brightly. 

"Doctor Fischer, we're pleased to have Torchwood here," Alper stammered a bit. 

Fish could tell the last thing Alper wanted in his field office was Torchwood, and he couldn't really blame him. Torchwood's reputation for arrogance and snobbery was well known. Fish remind himself this was not his backyard. This may be a job interview, but he was also representing Torchwood. 

"It's good to meet you, AIC Alper, and I'm pleased to be here," Fish said. He shook Alper's hand with a smile. The other man’s palm was clammy and Fish resisted the urge to wipe his hand on his trouser leg. Everyone in this room, except for Donovan, was on edge. Borel was talking to a few of the other agents, heads huddled together, casting glances towards them. _More nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs_ , as his grandmother would have said. 

"I was about to run the team through a drill," Donovan said. "Would you care to observe?" 

"Of course, Director," Fish said. He tried not to prejudge MiB. Torchwood never ran drills. There wasn't time and there was no need. Torchwood was sink or swim. Fish found the idea of drills faintly ridiculous. 

Donovan turned to Alper and said, in a low voice, "Drill C." 

Alper nodded and then scurried off. Donovan and Fish moved off to the side and in about thirty seconds, a klaxon began to blare. Fish observed with a critical eye as each person stood up and went about their job. The first few minutes were a bit chaotic. The fact those first few minutes were solely devoted to identifying the drill were what disappointed Fish the most. Once they knew which drill was running, they reminded Fish of factory robots or those little animatronic figures in a Disney World ride. 

_Well they’ll know what to do if this is exactly what happens…_

It was monotonous and well rehearsed. There was no talking or communicating between anyone. Everyone knew exactly what was coming next and what to do about it. 

 _Oh for fuck's sake…_ Fish couldn't watch anymore. He turned to Donovan and asked, "Do you mind if I stop them, Director?" 

"Your input is why you're here, Doctor Fischer," Donovan said. "Please, be my guest. They're all yours." 

"Thanks," Fish said. He turned back to the choreographed scene in front of him and rolled his eyes. He pulled his lips back and blew. The whistle echoed over the klaxon and everyone froze. Fish even heard Donovan's dress shoes shuffle against the floor as he jumped at the volume. Fish's father had taught him this whistle-a whistle that Fish could hear back home in Perth for blocks-and he had no doubt Donovan's ears were ringing right now. 

"All right, drill’s over!” he shouted. He pointed up at the ceiling. "Please, turn that off!" 

Everyone in the office stared at him. Fish narrowed his eyes and snapped, "Oi! You lot deaf? Turn it off!" 

Alper regained his wits first, typing in the appropriate codes at one of the workstations. Once the deafening klaxon was halted, Fish sighed and turned to Donovan. "Director, how many drills do you have?" 

"Twenty." 

"And how often do you perform these drills?" 

"Weekly." 

Fish couldn't suppress the eye roll. This one was worthy of Ianto. He jerked his head over his shoulder. “You need some new drills. They're used to them. This all looks completely rehearsed and choreographed. Real situations rarely follow drilled scenarios. May I?" 

"Of course, Doctor Fischer," Donovan said, watching intently. 

Fish crossed over to one of the cubicles. He examined the items, normal every day office supplies for the most part. There was a foam stress ball. Why anyone in this office would need a stress ball was beyond him, but he picked it up nonetheless. He threw the ball up into the air and caught it and then tossed it onto the floor. _Pyraxian grenade, simple enough…_

"This alien item just dropped into your office. It appeared out of no where for no apparent reason and without warning. Go." 

"Are you serious?" Borel asked. 

"Serious as a heart attack," Fish warned. How had it taken Donovan years to see this? 

One of the agents, who Fish assumed was the technician, slid into her workstation and began typing. "I'm running a full security check to see where and how the breach in our defences occurred…" 

Her movement kick started the others. One of the other agents bent down to examine the item while another drew his weapon, pointing it at the ball on the floor. Fish suppressed another eye roll. _How very American…_ he thought. He didn't even want to think about what would happen if a bullet impacted a Pyraxian grenade. 

"What's it look like?" he asked, turning to Fish. "Or does it actually look like this?"

"Metallic, round, about the size of a baseball. There is a mauve circle painted on one side,” Fish said, using the American reference point. “Your name?" 

"Agent Keith Carpenter," he said, turning back to the stress ball. He reached out with his hand and picked it up… barehanded. 

Suppressing yet another eye roll, Fish sighed. He lifted up his watch, noting the time as Carpenter moved off to the side, putting the ball onto a table. Several of the other personnel gathered around the item, examining it visually or scanning it with various devices. 

Still staring at his watch, he counted down the seconds and then brought the flat of his hand down firmly on the desk. The loud noise brought everyone's heads up. 

Fish, unable to hide his sarcasm, said, "Agent Carpenter, I'd like to commend you and your other colleagues for giving your lives in the service of your country. The Pyraxian grenade you picked up and activated has just killed you and everyone around that table. It's also deafened myself and Director Donovan. What is the universal colour for danger?" 

"Red," Borel replied, instantly. 

"Wrong. You lot work for an _alien_ agency, Agent Borel. The universe is a fuck lot bigger than Earth. What is the _universal_ colour for danger?" Fish said, his voice filled with barely restrained contempt. He wasn't doing anything for Torchwood's reputation for arrogance, but he didn't care. What he was seeing here was nothing short of gross incompetence. Any of the agents here would be dead inside of a week if they worked for Torchwood. He locked his gaze with everyone in the room, even Donovan standing behind him. No one answered. 

"It's mauve," Fish said. 

“You didn’t tell us the significance of the mauve circle,” Carpenter whinged. 

“What stopped you from asking? It was the only specific characteristic I gave you,” Fish pointed out. “Director Donovan? Can I speak with you privately?" 

Looking as if the wind had been completely knocked out of him, Donovan nodded and numbly led Fish towards a small conference room. As Fish walked past the group, he heard Carpenter mutter, "Who the fuck does this faggot think he is?" 

Fish stopped in his tracks and turned. With barely restrained rage, he said, "This _faggot_ is Torchwood." 

"Oh, high and mighty Torchwood," Carpenter sneered. "Spend all your time on your knees, sucking Harkness's-"

“Agent Carpenter, that is enough!” Donovan roared. 

Fish decided on a more physical approach. He took two steps forward. He grabbed Carpenter's tie and yanked it downward. The agent tried to defend himself, but Fish had him face down on the desk before he knew what hit him. He fisted the tie in his hand and Carpenter's face reddened as he struggled to breathe. 

Channeling Miranda, Fish leaned down and added a chill to his voice. ”You can stow the fucking attitude and your narrow-minded homophobic shite, because I'm not the seventh level idiot who picked up an alien object with his bare fucking hands. Stand down, Agent Carpenter or I will use your kidneys for the next demonstration."

The other agents who were coming to Carpenter’s aide backed away. Fish let go of Carpenter who slid to the floor coughing and loosening his tie. "Now, this faggot thinks he's the lab squint who just kicked your arse." 

Fish straightened his suit jacket, then strode passed Donovan and into the conference room. Donovan shut the door behind them. Fish’s blood was pounding in his ears. The woman at the aeroport had been one thing, but this was something else entirely. There was no way Fish would tolerate this kind of disrespectful bigotry from someone who could end up under his command.

Embarrassed, Donovan said, "I apologise for Agent Carpenter's behavior, Doctor Fischer. I'll see that he's properly disciplined." 

"I think I took care of that already," Fish said, coldly. 

"I'm so sorry, Doctor Fischer, I had hoped…" Donovan trailed off, unsure of how to continue. 

“That the fact I'm a faggot wouldn't bother your agents?" Fish snapped. He drew in a deep breath, trying to force calm. It wasn't working. "You should be glad it's me here and _not_ Doctor Ryan." 

Donovan shuddered. Fish had no doubt if that agent had decided to get snide with Miranda, his spleen would be laying on the floor. "Many of our field agents are ex-military. Often they have a particular mindset…" 

"Stop, just…" Fish trailed off. He waved his hand, not wanting to discuss it any further. "It doesn't matter, Director. I will warn you that that is not a trait you want in your agents. Bigotry like that will extend to the aliens that live within your borders."

Donovan nodded, looking mortified. 

"You don't know the universal colour for danger?" Fish asked, eagerly changing the subject. 

Donovan sat down and sighed. "I wasn't promoted from within, Doctor Fischer. I was assigned as head of MiB because of my history with the CIA and the NSA. All of this alien shit's new to me." 

 _Even if you were promoted from within it looks like you wouldn't have known either!_ He started off calm, but his voice steadily rose as he spoke. "I mean no offence, Director, but what I saw in there is nothing short of a disaster. Drills are all fine and good, but they can't replace critical thinking skills. One of your agents picked up what was supposed to be an alien item of unknown origin or function with his bare hands! I understand that you lot don't get random alien shite falling from the sky like we do, but I can't believe the basic protocol of 'don't touch it if you want to live' isn't written down somewhere in MiB's rule book!" 

"You see what I'm dealing with here, Doctor Fischer," Donovan said, waving at the door. 

"I can't help you fix this, Director," Fish said, sadly. 

"Doctor Fischer, I'm begging you-"

"No, Director. What I mean is that I can't fix this alone. Hiring me is not going to be enough. Do you want the long and short of it?" Fish asked. 

"Of course," Donovan insisted.  

"If you want to do this right, you need to pick one of your regional AIC's, the most capable, and promote them to Deputy Director," Fish said. He jammed his pointed finger into the table top with each phrase for emphasis. "You need to come to Cardiff and train with Torchwood for a few weeks and have them run things in your absence. You don't have any alien experience? It's time to get some. Torchwood-Trial by Fire." 

Donovan frowned and Fish could see the uncertainty. 

"Ethan, you're a good man who does something,” Fish said. The words Ianto had uttered to him felt as if they’d been so long ago.

"It'll take time to get all my ducks in a row," Donovan said, softly. 

Fish shook his head. “That’s not a problem, Director. After you're done training with us, every single member of the Torchwood team is going to need to help you revise every protocol and procedure you have. We'll work something out. We'll help you fix this… I'm sorry, Director there's no other word for it than catastrophe." 

"I appreciate your honesty, Doctor Fischer," he said, looking a bit overwhelmed. "Although I think that what you just saw is a symptom of a larger issue." 

Fish nodded. "I'm afraid the main part of your problem, Director, is complacency. You don't have a lot of alien traffic, but your country is massive. You may need to find the proper balance between your response time and your readiness capabilities. A few strategically placed teams across your country would be easier to maintain. I don't know enough about your country's alien traffic to make the proper suggestions, but you have a lot of bored people out there.”

"There isn't much. We have seen up to two dozen alien incidents per year but there’s also years where nothing happens at all. The number varies a lot," Donovan said. "I don't have all the statistics." 

Fish pinched the bridge of his nose. "Send me those statistics as well, broken down regionally. I need numbers for your response times too. Actually send me any statistical reports you do have, if you’re willing.” 

"I'll have everything sent to you, Doctor Fischer," Donovan said. "Would you like for me to wait for your return to Cardiff?"

Fish shook his head. "No, it's not necessary." 

"I don't want you to take up your vacation with work," Donovan frowned. "Your partner’ll want to shoot me.” 

"It's fine, Director. With your permission, I'll send them on to Cardiff as well," Fish said. He stood up. He wanted to get back to Henry. He'd wasted enough time here. “And I’d also like to return to Vancouver.” 


	10. Chapter 10

Fish left Borel at the hospital, glad to get away from him. This entire debacle had taken far longer than just the morning. It was now late into the afternoon. He walked back towards Henry's apartment slowly, mindful of the uncomfortable dress shoes. At first, he couldn't believe he'd taken time away from him and Henry so that he could investigate this job offer, but now he was glad he had. Seeing MiB's incompetence first hand had been an eye opener. He'd thought it would be a problem if America had a major alien incident, but now Fish knew it would be disastrous. 

When he saw the apartment door, he let out a sigh of relief. Home… It didn't matter to him that he'd only been here a few days. People were always surprised to hear his Australian accent so far from home. It had positively shocked people when he’d gone to university, especially since he’d only been sixteen. Fish had never thought anything about picking up and moving across an ocean as anything far fetched. He’d never put down roots anywhere. He had few possessions. Truthfully, nowhere had ever felt like home to him. 

But not anymore, he thought, looking at the apartment door. He’d only known Henry a few days, but that first night he knew Henry was home. 

He unlocked the door and stepped inside, tossing his keys onto the countertop next to Henry's. He rolled his shoulders as he dug in the fridge for a beer. After taking a few long pulls off the bottle, he left it sitting on the counter. He needed to ring Cardiff as soon as possible. The absolute debacle he'd witnessed was unacceptable. Fish no longer thought Jack was being harsh when he called MiB a joke. No, now he felt Jack was being generous. This was not a phone call he wasn’t looking forward to this phone call. Best to get it over and done with… and definitely in some more comfortable clothes… he thought. The sooner he rang Jack, the sooner the unpleasantness would be over and he could settle in for a nice quiet evening with Henry. He didn't even care if he had to spend it watching crime dramas. 

Henry was nowhere to be seen. He had to be in the apartment somewhere, his keys were here. Fish hooked his finger into his tie and started to loosen it as he walked down the hallway to the bedroom and paused outside of the door. The guest room door across the hallway was shut. Fish furrowed his brow and listened while he undid his tie. He didn't hear anything. As he unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, he pressed his ear to the door. Sometimes Henry used the room for private conversations, but he heard nothing. 

"Henry?" Fish called out but there was no answer. He rapped his knuckles on the door, gently, but there was no answer. He took the tie off and looped it through his hand. Henry often left the windows cracked to air out the infrequently used room. Perhaps a breeze had shut the door. 

He reached out and turned the knob, pushing the door open. He didn't look into the room, just turned back towards the master bedroom, but movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned and the tie in his hand fluttered to the floor as his fingers went numb.  

Henry was lying on the bed. With another man. 

Fish’s heart began to break. Jealousy and anger welled up in his chest. Everything came together-the strange phone calls, Henry’s odd mood. Fish’s knee jerk reaction was so strong, he almost didn’t see the picture in front of him. Yes, Henry was spooned tightly behind someone else, but both men were fully clothed. The stranger was underneath the blankets in a pair of flannel pyjamas while Henry was laying on top of them in his jeans and t-shirt. There had to be a reasonable explanation and Fish wanted to hear it. But that was no reason for him to not be more than a little bit angry. 

Fish brought his hand up and slammed it against the door. At the top of his lungs, he bellowed, "Oi!"

Both men woke with a start, sitting up in the bed. Their eyes widening as they both gaped at Fish. 

"Joe?" Henry gasped. 

Fish leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. He successfully kept the angry tears at bay and gave his lover a look of death. He kept his voice level, but spoke tightly. "I'm back from my meeting in Seattle. Is there something you want to tell me, Henry?" 

Henry scrambled away from the unknown man who looked back and forth between Fish and Henry. Henry swung his legs out of the bed and stood, looking from Fish to the stranger and back again. The three of them looking back and forth at each other would’ve been comical in any other situation. A pensive look filled Henry's face, and normally, Fish would wait patiently while Henry formulated whatever he needed to say, but not this time. This time Fish suspected Henry was about to make up a story and lie to him. He slammed his hand against the door again. 

"Oi! I want to know what the fuck is going on. Now!" Fish barked. 

"Joe… This is Thomas Blount," Henry slowly said. 

Fish was about to retort back that he really didn't give a flying fuck what this twat’s name was, but before he could speak something clicked in his mind. He blinked. Blount? 

Very slowly and deliberately, Henry said, “Thomas is my son."  

"Your… son…” Fish trailed off, dumbstruck. He looked at the stranger. He was either Fish's age or not much younger. Fish opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. The second time, he left his mouth hanging open. His life had just gone from strange to positively bizarre and considering what he did for a living that was a true feat. 

"I need some air," Fish said abruptly. 

He turned around and walked away. He grabbed his messenger bag by the handle and left the apartment, not even locking the door behind him. When he hit the pavement, he started walking in a random direction. He couldn't even think. He tried. He tried to use the time to put his feelings in order and to think, but he was too stunned. He stopped in a small cafe and bought a cup of coffee. He didn't even drink it as he sat down at the table outside. The coffee had gone stone cold by the time the shock had started to wear off. 

Henry was immortal. He'd lived a long life and Fish was sure there were lots of things he'd never know about him, but he expected to at least know the basics by now and having a son, Fish felt, was one of the basics. Henry was moving across a continent and an ocean for him. They were moving in together. Fish wanted to spend the rest of his life with Henry. Okay, maybe getting to meet Henry’s son would be taking it far at this stage, but not to even know about his existence? Still in shock, he was still trying to figure out if all this was real. 

"You shouldn't be too hard on him," a voice said from the next table over. 

"Pardon?" Fish asked, confused. 

"Your boyfriend," she said. She was a stunning woman with bright, kind eyes. Her round face was framed by short blonde hair with bright red streaks dyed into it. Boldly, she stood up and sat down across from Fish. She held out her hand. "Ashley Greenfield." 

"Joe Fischer," he said, shaking her hand. He was wondering if he had the word 'gay' written on his forehead somewhere. 

"I know who you are, Doctor Fischer," Ashley said. She turned her wrist. Fish saw the tattoo on the inside of her wrist, a curved 'v' within a wide circle. 

"You're Henry's Watcher," Fish said, shaking his head. "What are you following me for?" 

"I get you're upset about Tom, eh? But you should go talk to him about it. Love like you two have is worth it." 

"I'm not upset. I'm just… surprised," Fish said, defensive. "Immortals can't have children." 

"That doesn't mean they don't raise them from time to time," Ashley pointed out. 

"Yeah, I sussed that out for myself, thanks," Fish said, sarcastically. He rolled his eyes. "Nearly three months and not a word? He's told me so many other things that I classify as much bigger secrets than this so I'm sorry if I'm a little shocked. Wait, why the fuck am I explaining myself to you?”

Ashley smiled and said, “Right now, Henry thinks you're pissed as hell. He's poured himself a brandy and he’s pacing his living room, finger hooked over his lip, terrified you're going to walk out on him over this. What’s going through his head isn’t how to explain Tom to you, but how he’s going to manage to live without you in his life.” 

"I would never-"

"No offense, Doctor Fischer, but you don't know him like I do. Henry is an amazing guy, but he has the worst taste in men. He reminds me of every emotionally damaged women I’ve ever known with serious daddy issues. I’ve seen every bad Grindr date, one night stand, and cruising hookup he's made for the past ten years. Aaron Reynolds is the tip of a really big and really jagged iceberg," she said, sitting back in the metal chair.

"Gee, thanks," Fish said, offended to be lumped in with a prat like Aaron Reynolds. 

"Present company excluded, Doctor Fischer," Ashley corrected. She gave Fish a friendly smile. "In ten years, I've never seen him happier than he's been with you.”

Fish was surprised. This woman looked too young to have followed Henry around for ten years. "Ten years is a long time. Are you staying here when Henry moves?" 

“No, I'm not staying here. Like I said, Doctor Fischer, Henry’s a great guy and he’s a dream assignment. He doesn't spend all his time trying to dodge me and, more importantly, he hasn't tried to kill me." 

"You don't have anyone here? Boyfriend? Family?" Fish asked. 

"The women of my family have been Watchers for generations, Doctor Fischer. The Watchers are my family and Henry is like my family. I know he doesn't see it that way. He sees me as 'bloody intrusive'," she said, making quotes in the air and saying the two words in a poor imitation of Henry's accent, "but I love what I do and, believe it or not, I actually care about him. I can’t tell you how happy I am he found you. He deserves some happiness in his life. Watching the two of you fall in love has been really romantic and sweet.” 

Fish blushed realising Ashley must have been there nearly every step of the way-the bar at St. David's, their first kiss on the quay, London, Paris… 

He looked at her. "Were you in Paris?" 

Ashley shifted in her chair. "Yes." 

"What happened? The challenger?“ 

"I really can't tell you that, Doctor Fischer," Ashley said. 

"Please, I need to know," Fish said. 

"You shouldn't worry about Henry and the Game. Chen Mao-Lin was his teacher and a female millennenarian is rare. She’s one of the best and takes her role as teacher very seriously and is very selective about her students,” Ashley said, giving him a serious look. 

Fish considered that for a moment and said, “Who was it?” 

“His name was Dominique Beauclerc. He was a young hotshot who thought the gay guy would be an easy target. He was way wrong. Henry had him in under two minutes. Go home to him, eh?" 

Without another word, she left Fish alone with his cold coffee. He tossed the full cup into the bin and started back towards Henry's apartment, using the map on his mobile to guide himself. As he made his way up to the apartment, he tried to figure out what he was going to say when he got there. By the time he put his key into the door, he still had no idea what he was going to say or ask or any of it, but Ashley was right. He needed to get Henry's side of the story.  

He dropped his messenger bag by the door and stood up. Henry was sitting on the sofa, alone. There was a book and a crystal tumbler filled with an amber liquor on the coffee table. Fish shifted them so he could sit down on the coffee table. He knew it would irritate Henry, but he wanted to have this conversation face to face. He took his suit jacket off and draped it behind him. He leaned forward, his forearms on his knees, glancing at the book and the liquor next to him. It was lighter than the scotch and Fish assumed it was the brandy. As always, the single glass was for both of them. Fish picked up the tumbler, took a sip, then passed it to Henry. Fish hadn't eaten anything all day, skipping breakfast so he would make the MiB chopper in time. On his empty stomach, the liquor began spreading warmth through him immediately. Henry took his own sip and then passed the glass back to Fish. When Henry leaned forward and picked up the book, Fish raised an eyebrow in surprise. It was a photo album. Henry hated photographs. 

Henry exchanged the album for the tumbler and Fish started to flip through it. There were random pictures of Tom as he'd grown up, birthdays and graduations and other moments between father and son. Other than changes to his hair style and clothing, Henry was unchanged through the entire album spanning Tom's life. They looked nothing alike, but that didn't surprise him since Tom must be adopted. 

"This is my son, Thomas Blount. He lives in New York. He's a narcotics detective with the New York Police Department," Henry said. Fish heard the  glint of fatherly pride. "I'm sorry I didn't mention Tom to you sooner. You have every reason to be angry, Joe."

"I'm not angry, Henry, I promise, I'm not," Fish said, adamantly. The look on Henry's face was so grim. He was expecting the worst. "I'm just surprised, that's all and I'm sorry for the way I reacted." 

"You don't need to apologise, Joe. I understand how it looked." Henry scrubbed at his face. "I am the one who is sorry, sorry that you've been surprised by this. I didn't know how to broach the subject. Tom is thirty nine, nearly your age." 

Now, Fish was annoyed again. "Henry, you're a four hundred and ninety two year old immortal and I'm fine with that. What the fuck made you think I wouldn't be fine with your thirty nine year old son?"

"It wasn't Tom himself, Joe. The circumstances of his birth are a difficult tale," Henry said. He sat back on the sofa and stared into the tumbler.

It was a few minutes before Henry took a healthy sip and then passed it to Fish who did the same. Fish didn't say anything, he just waited. He tilted the tumbler in his hand, the late afternoon light playing off the cut crystal. He waited for Henry to speak, knowing the immortal man would say what he needed to in his own time. 

Henry shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. A slight blush crossed his cheeks and not from the liquor. He held out his hand and Fish handed him back the tumbler. He took another sip and then spoke. 

"Tom's mother, Margaret and I had a brief affair. I thought myself in love, but soon after we moved in together, it became clear I had seriously misjudged her." 

Fish was surprised. He'd assumed that Henry's past lovers had all been men. 

Seeing his lover's surprise, Henry said, "I have lain with women, but, as you know, it is not my preference. Until I met Margaret, I had only taken one other woman to my bed."

"Evie," Fish assumed. 

Henry nodded. "While we were traveling through Europe, she indulged a curiosity. Margaret was the first woman I ever loved." 

"That must have been a shock for you," Fish said. It was Fish's own situation but in the reverse.  

"It was. I'd never been interested in women. When my father married me to Mary Howard, I was only fourteen. When he forbade me to consummate the marriage, I was actually relieved," Henry confided. "My attraction to Margaret was unexpected." 

Henry took another sip and passed the tumbler back to Fish. He sighed before continuing. "I soon discovered that the things I loved about her-her spontaneity, her eccentricities, her zeal-were symptoms of greater disturbances. She was unstable, often given to fits of rage and violence. I left her scarcely two months after we moved in together. I moved to Boston. A few months later, Margaret showed up on my doorstep pregnant, insisting the child was mine, behaving utterly mad.”

"How did you end up raising him?" Fish asked, taking the tumbler out of Henry's hand so he could sip from it. He turned and saw the bottle behind him. Carefully, he removed the stopper and poured a few splashes into the glass.

"I had always told Margaret I couldn't have children. I never deceived her in that. She kept insisting the child was mine, some sort of miraculous conception and that whatever doctor had diagnosed my sterility must have been mistaken," Henry said as he shook his head. "I obviously couldn't tell her the truth, nor did I want to."

"She didn't let it end there did she?" Fish asked, even though he guessed the answer. 

"No," Henry said and Fish saw shame on Henry's face. Henry leaned, took the now refreshed glass into his hand and drank deeply. Fish took the tumbler from Henry mid-sip.

"Hey, easy there," Fish said. 

Henry wiped his lip with his thumb. "In retrospect, I believe I acted poorly. I should have gotten her help. The first time she'd arrived at my apartment, her arms were covered in self-inflicted wounds. I should have done something, done more, but at the time, I wanted her as far away from me as possible. I filed for a restraining order and that was when she finally left me in peace. I thought that was the end of it."

Henry’s eyes grew angry. "One night, very late, I was woken by my doorbell. When I answered it, Tom was there. It was the middle of winter. He was naked, not even a nappy, wrapped in a urine soaked sheet. He was just a newborn. His cord was tied off with a piece of twine. I shudder to think what would have happened to him had I not answered the door which was my original impulse."

Fish was disgusted and outraged. How could anyone do that to their own child? He knew what would have happened if Henry hadn't answered his door. Tom would have died. 

"You raised him," Fish said. It was a statement, not a question.

"As my own," Henry said, a small smile playing on his face. "I never knew what became of his mother, but I didn't attempt to locate her. I would never have left Tom in her care after what she had done to him." 

Fish had no doubt that the small innocent newborn he had seen in the photo album had captured his lover's heart completely the moment he'd set eyes on him. 

"That's abandonment, Henry. She should have gone to jail for it," Fish said. 

Henry shook his head. "Margaret and I weren't married. If she had wished to contest any sort of custody, I had no legal grounds to fight her. There is no possible way that Tom is biologically mine. He would have ended up in the system. Or worse, in the incompetent hands of his unstable mother." 

"He knows about your immortality," Fish said. 

Henry nodded. "He has known for some time. When I felt him old enough, I explained my immortality and the Game. It was not an easy discussion." 

"Does Tom know about his mother?" Fish asked. 

"He asked about her constantly when he was growing up. I tried to answer him as honestly as I could without lying. Mostly I worded my answers carefully to focus on Margaret's good points-the things that had made me fall in love with her," Henry said with a sad shake of his head. "When I felt him old enough and ready, I told him the truth."

Fish saw the sadness cross over Henry's face and he got up off the coffee table and sat down next to his lover. He put his arm around Henry and pulled him in close. 

"He was furious with me for lying to him," Henry said sadly. He gently rubbed his face with his hands. "We didn't speak for years. It broke my heart. He refused my phone calls and my letters went unanswered. I backed away and gave him his space, praying one day he would understand. I moved here and only sent him letters at Christmas and Easter, as well as a gift on his birthday. The gifts were always returned." 

"How are things between the two of you now?" Fish asked. 

"On his thirtieth birthday, Tom rang out of no where. I couldn't believe it. It took time, but things have mostly returned to how they once were, if a bit strained on occasion," Henry said sadly. "I had planned on telling you about him this week, Joe. As I said, I didn't know how to broach the subject." 

"Why's he here now?" Fish asked. "Is he all right?" 

A smile spread across Henry's face. "Tom knows my new show is opening. He has flown in to surprise me," Henry said. There was a bit of concern in his voice, "He's come down with a bit of a cold. The flight had tired him and he wasn't feeling well. When he was sick as a boy, I'd make him a cup of tea and then put him to bed. I'd hold him while he fell asleep. That was what I did for him today. I must have fallen asleep myself." 

"I'm sorry I flew off the handle like that." 

"As I said before, Joe. I understand how it looked," Henry said. "He didn't realise you'd be here. He is very sorry to have intruded. He's staying until Sunday night." 

"He's your son, Henry," Fish exclaimed. It sounded strange the minute it was out of his mouth. He shook his head. "He isn't 'intruding'. Is he still in the guest room?" 

Henry nodded. "Whenever Tom visits, he usually stays with me, but I rang the Pan Pacific, they have a room opening up tomorrow morning.” 

Fish shook his head. "Absolutely not. He's your son. He's staying here with us, not in some hotel."  

"It's kind of you, Joe, but Tom will be more comfortable in a hotel," Henry insisted. 

"If he's uncomfortable with me… with us…"

"Tom has known about my preferences for some time, Joe." 

"That's not what I mean, Henry. I mean how fast things are moving with us."  

"Tom is a man who speaks his mind, Joe. In fact, I am often irritated by his lack of verbal filter. If he had a problem, he would have spoken his mind,” Henry said with a rueful shake of his head. "I'm going to order us some take away. Is Chinese all right, Joe? It's Tom's favourite." 

Fish nodded and stood up. "You're okay to drive?"

"The restaurant is around the corner. I'm going to walk," Henry said, picking up his mobile.

Reluctantly, Fish stepped down the hallway towards the guest room. He hestitated for a moment before knocking. Tom opened it, leaning heavily on the knob, a wad of tissues in his hand. Even hunched, Tom was much taller than him and guessed he was probably taller than even Jack or Ianto. Tom had a slim, athletic build. His hair was jet black, greying at the temples. His slightly receding hairline had given him a dramatic widow's peak. Unlike Henry's fair complexion, this man had more of an olive tone to his skin. He looked very much like he had a cold, his nose was red around the edges and his eyes were a bit bloodshot. He looked just as nervous as Fish felt. Tom stepped out of the way and Fish walked into the room. 

"I think we got off on the wrong foot," Fish said, feeling absurd. 

"Nah, it's my fault, man. I shouldn't have… How about we start over?" Tom said. 

Fish smiled at the thick New York accent. It was a polar opposite to Henry's Received Pronunciation. 

Tom thrust out his hand and said, "Tom Blount."

"Joe Fischer," Fish said with a smile. He was about to clasp the hand but Tom pulled it back. 

"Eh, that's probably not a good idea, Joe. I don't want to infect you," he said but Fish reached forward and clasped the hand firmly. 

"I'll take my chances," Fish said. 

With a slightly nervous look, Tom closed the bedroom door. He sat down on the bed and gave Fish a hard look. Fish braced himself for the 'if you hurt my father I'll kick your arse' speech, but that wasn't what he got at all. 

"You seem like a stand up guy, Joe," Tom said, seriously.

"I thought I'd come across as a nutter, honestly," Fish said, lightly. He let out a nervous laugh. 

"What that? If I didn't know the truth, I would've assumed the same damned thing." Tom let out a scoff and waved at the bed. His face turned serious and he said, "Look. Pop? He has lots of one night stands and flings. Honestly? I thought that was what you were when Pop told me about you, a fling. You might not have noticed but your jaw wasn't the only one on the fucking floor. Pop hasn't introduced me to someone as his son in over twenty five years. I can't believe he'd told someone the truth about himself. Blew my mother fucking mind. Must've blown yours too." 

Fish leaned against the dresser and crossed his arms over his chest. Despite the seriousness of the subject, he was trying desperately not to laugh. The idea of someone calling Henry, a nearly five hundred year old immortal man and English nobleman, 'Pop' was hysterical. He suspected that was exactly why Tom did it. He took a breath to steady his voice. 

"It was a bit of a shock, but not as much as you'd think. I work with your father's teacher," Fish said. Fish nearly winced when he used the word 'father' when referring to Henry. "I knew about the Game before I even met him." 

"Holy shit, you know Auntie Mei-Mei?!" Tom gasped. He ran a hand through his hair. "I hope I haven't screwed this up for him. I get how weird this is."

"I don't think there's anything that would get me to run away from your father and I'm kind of used to weird," Fish said with a smile. "But I was worried about the same thing. I don't want to make things between you two difficult. I can't imagine your father dating someone only a few years older than you is easy." 

No matter how many times Fish said 'father' it would never sound right to him and he decided to stop. 

"Well the man can't exactly date people his own age," Tom said with a laugh but sobered quickly. He said, seriously, "Its just like when anyone's parent dates-just another awkward set of circumstances. He may be immortal and nearly five hundred years old, but he's still my old man, you know? Fathers and sons…" 

"Yeah I get that." 

"Your old man's no picnic, huh?" 

"He was an army chaplain." 

"Oh this whole gay thing must sit great with him," Tom said, chuckling a bit. 

"Both my parents are rolling over in their graves as we speak," Fish said with a shake of his head and laughed. 

"Must have been hard when you were younger," Tom said. 

"Wouldn't have known," Fish said and blushed a bit. "Henry's the first man I've ever dated." 

"No shit," Tom said as his eyebrows raised a bit. He smiled and then rolled his eyes. "Pop doesn't have the greatest track record. You add in all that immortal shit? You really know how to pick 'em. Not that my track record is all that great either…" 

"Bachelor?" Fish said. 

"Divorced… twice," Tom laughed.  

"Got any kids?" Fish asked. 

"Nah, I was never that fucking stupid," Tom said, laughing again. "Maybe I'm playing for the wrong team." 

"Said that to myself, actually… then I met Henry," Fish said laughing. 

"Great, don't tell him that. That'd be just what I need. Pop's been trying to set me up with men my whole fucking life," Tom said with an eye roll. "The guy's real cut up I'm straight. How many fucking kids can say that about their parents?"

"It's not about men," Fish said with a shrug. "It's about Henry." 

"Interesting way to look at it," Tom said, tilting his head.

"Who does Henry usually say you are?" Fish asked, curious. 

"Right now we're on the kid brother story-half kid brother actually. It explains the large age gap, the accent difference, and the fact that we look nothing alike," Tom said. He got up and picked up the box of tissues from the bedside table. He blew his nose and then said, "It all started out pretty normal. He was my Dad and I was his son. Then he was my older brother and now he's my younger brother… I expect soon we'll be full circle and I'll be the Dad." 

"Must be hard, the lying," Fish sympathised. 

"It was when I was a kid. Now?" Tom shrugged. "I know the truth and that's what matters. Don't worry, I'll be out of your hair tomorrow. Pop said the hotel has a room opening up." 

"I know this isn't my home, Tom, but you're Henry's son. You should stay here, not some hotel," Fish said. "You deserve time with him too." 

"Don't worry about it. You two should have your privacy," Tom said seriously and then smiled. He jerked his head towards the dresser. "No offense, man, it might only be for a day but I'd rather not try sleeping in a bedroom that shares a wall with both of yours."

Fish couldn't help the scarlet blush flashing up his neck and face. He coughed and shifted his weight, trying to shake the embarrassment off. "Henry said you're here for his show?"

"Yeah," Tom said. He laughed and then let out a sly smile. "Right before he met you, he stopped in New York on his way to England, asked if I wanted to come to the show and I told him I couldn't. He tried not to show it but I could tell he was real cut up about it. I gave him the usual story… I was too busy… work was crazy… but it was all bullshit. I'd already bought my ticket. He hasn't had a show opening in a few years." 

"I'm sorry I've spoiled your surprise," Fish said, feeling badly. 

Tom laughed so hard he ended up coughing.  "What the fuck are you talking about? You two sure as shit looked surprised!" 

Fish couldn't help but join in the laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paul Blackthorne is who I've cast as Thomas Blount.


	11. Chapter 11

It didn't take long for Henry to return with the take away. Since Tom was ill, Fish had refused his help laying the table, forcing him to sit and rest. Fish was a bit nervous, casting side glances at Tom as he set out the plates and utensils. This was Henry's son after all. As Fish had gotten older, dating women with children had been unavoidable and, without exception, the opinion of those children always weighed heavily on the relationship. _Not that things ever lasted long enough for it to matter…_ Tom was far from a child but Fish was still nervous and still a little embarrassed about his earlier assumption and outburst. He'd acted like a complete fool. It reminded him of a time he'd taken his younger sister out for a bite to eat - the waiter had though she was his girlfriend. The two of them had been horrified. _Relax…_ he told himself, firmly. The three of them sat down and Henry started opening the cartons and distributing the food. 

"Where are the prawn crackers, Pop?" Tom asked.

"That bag there," Henry said pointing. He turned to his lover. "If you want any of those, Joe, you best get some now before Tom devours them."

"What are you bitching about? You don't even like them! Don't worry. I'll leave some for your boyfriend," Tom said, rolling his eyes.

"Looks like they're all yours. I don't like them either," Fish said with a shrug.

"How was your flight, Tom?" Henry asked.

"Cramped and long," Tom said with an eye roll. "It was a little bumpy when we got here. Fucking turbulence. I hate that shit."

"Language, Thomas," Henry scolded. He started to tease, "So, you were able to get time off from work?"

Tom coloured a bit. "Yeah, sorry about lying to you, Pop. My vacation time rolls over. I don't lose it so I have a lot saved up. I've got a few open cases but I'm entitled to my time," He popped a prawn cracker into his mouth. "Where the fuck else am I going to go? Taking a vacation all by myself'd be a little pathetic. Can't wait for you to move. It'll give me an excuse to go to England."

"Wales, Thomas. I'm moving to Wales," Henry corrected.

"Wales… England… Whatever," Tom said with a shrug.

Fish barked out a laugh. "Yeah, don't say that to anyone in Wales."

"How is work?" Henry asked.

"Fine," Tom said, flatly.

Henry picked up his chopsticks and gave his son a slight glare.

"Really, Pop, it's fine. I'm clearing my cases okay," Tom sighed. "But I'm sure as shit counting the days till I can retire."

"How long do you have for that?" Fish asked.

Tom sighed again. "I can retire with half pay after twenty years which is in another seven."

"Henry says you work narcotics?"

Tom nodded as he chewed. "Fucking uphill battle every day. It's wearing me down."

"Language, Thomas. Have you signed up for your lieutenant's exam?" Henry asked. He wiped his mouth and sipped at his water. "You were considering it a few months ago."

Tom shook his head. "I decided not to."

"You're an excellent leader, Tom. Frank says your fellow officers look up to you, ask you for advice. There would be a significant pay rise-"

"Be that as it may," Tom said and Fish smiled at the use of one of Henry's common expressions though it sounded strange with the different accent. "I don't want to play the game, Pop. You couldn't pay me enough to lick ass and play politics every day."

"Who's Frank?" Fish asked.

"My partner," Tom supplied. "Our friend, Vinnie, he made lieutenant last month and he's fucking miserable."

"Frank is doing well?" Henry asked.

"Yeah, he's good. Wife's hanging him out to dry on his child support though," Tom shook his head. "Thank God I never fucking had kids."

"I never asked you, Tom. Did you and Trish ever try?" Henry asked, offhandedly.

"No. Deb and I didn't either. I'm sure as shit glad for that now," Tom said and rolled his eyes. "Being five hundred years old isn't enough? You want me to make a granddad out of you?"

"Fatherhood is a most rewarding experience-"

"I don't think the alimony and the child support would be all that rewarding, Pop. Frankie's ex is challenging his visitation rights too. So, no thanks on that fucking headache," Tom said, shaking his head. He turned to Fish. "You got kids, Joe?"

Fish shook his head. "I didn't like kids even when I was one."

Tom laughed and Henry scowled at them both. "I think you'd make a wonderful father, Joe."

"I'm fine being an only child, Pop," Tom said, tucking into his rice. "I swear, your immortal shit could make for one fucked up family reunion."

"Language, Thomas," Henry scolded.

Fish smiled. Tom had the same sailor mouth he did. The fact that Henry's scoldings were constantly ignored made Fish smile all the more.

Henry reached over and dumped more of the rice onto Tom's plate. "You're ill, Thomas, and you aren't eating enough."

"You always say that and I can't taste shit with my nose clogged up like the fucking BQE," Tom said with an eye roll. "Give a guy a hand here, Joe?"

"I'm not stepping in the middle of this one. You're on your own, mate," Fish said with a laugh that Tom joined him in.

The conversation flowed well for the rest of the meal. The fact that he and Tom got on quite well surprised Fish. He had thought accepting Tom as Henry's son would be difficult but, with Henry's mature demeanour, it was easy. Henry may be physically more than twenty years younger than the two of them but he was mentally more than ten times older. Certainly, the situation was unorthodox but then again everything in Fish's life seemed to be unorthodox since he'd joined Torchwood. He was beginning to wonder if being a Torchwood employee turned a person into a magnet for the strange and unusual. Being a parental figure to Tom was a ridiculous idea for Fish since the man was only two years younger than him. Instead, Fish felt as if he was making a wonderful new friend.

After they were done eating and everything was cleared away, the three of them settled down for a night of television. Fish and Henry were sprawled out on the couch together. Henry had his head pillowed in Fish's lap. The popcorn bowl was propped up on his belly. Henry had, once again, chosen the program. Fish didn't know what this one was called.

"I can't believe you still watch this shit, Pop," Tom said. He was ignoring the programme and flipping through a magazine. A box of tissues was in his lap. His feet came off the floor and headed for the coffee table.

"Language, Thomas," Henry scolded, "and do not even think of putting your feet on the coffee table either, young man."

"Your boyfriend's got his feet up on it!" Tom whinged, pointing at Fish's feet.

Fish immediately removed his feet from the table.

"And now he does not," Henry pointed out. He playfully smacked Fish's knee. Fish dropped a few pieces of popcorn into Henry's mouth.

"You two are kind of sickening, you know that right?" Tom pointed out as he flipped a page in his magazine.

Henry glared at his son. "Perhaps Joe would like to hear about the time I came home and caught you and your girlfriend-"

"Hey! HEY! No need to fight dirty, Pop," Tom said, turning bright red and burying his face in his magazine. "I'm so jet lagged and this fucking cold isn't helping. I think I'm going to turn in. I don't even think I'll need my Ambien tonight. Might take it anyway.”

"Are you still taking those dreadful pills, Tom?" Henry chastised. "They have severe side effects."

"Yeah, well, I haven't ended up naked in the middle of the 59th street bridge eating a bowl of jello yet - not that anyone in New York'd notice - so until then, I'll enjoy my night of sleep," Tom said, rolling his eyes.

Fish chuckled. "Good night, Tom."

"Night you two," Tom said, waving at them with the magazine. "Do me a favour, Pop? Try not to scar me and keep it down."

"Sleep well, Tom," Henry said with barely restrained annoyance. "Perhaps if you learned to knock…"

"Hey! HEY!" Tom said, clamping his hands over his hears. "Fucking Christ, thanks for making me remember that day, Pop. Jesus. Someone toss me the brain bleach…"

"Language, Thomas," Henry scolded. "And I'd appreciate it if you kept the blasphemy to a minimum."

"Yes, Dad," Tom said, obediently but Fish saw the other man roll his eyes as he walked away. He disappeared down the hallway.

Fish chuckled. The way the two of them interacted reminded Fish of himself and his own father. In fact, now that Fish was thinking about it, Henry was a great deal like his father.  _Great I'm in the middle of some sort of gay Oedipus complex…_

He said, "I like him, Henry."

"I'm afraid he is a tad rough around the edges," Henry said with a shake of his head. "As I said, New York is a hard place. I believe it has exerted a poor influence on my son."

"Why didn't you stay in Boston?" Fish asked. Although he didn't think Boston would have been any better.

"At the time, Mao-Lin was doing her internship in New York," Henry said. "I had no experience with children. I moved to be closer to her. In fact, we all shared the same loft. She returned to work for Torchwood in the late seventies but by then, Tom was in school and I was more at ease with the role of father."

"You've done a great job with him, Henry. He's a good bloke," Fish said, smiling.

"A great deal of it is Mao-Lin's influence. Despite the pressures of her work schedule, she was of tremendous help when Tom was a child. I do not know what I would have done without her experience," Henry said. He ate a few more pieces of popcorn.

"Evie's raised kids?" Fish asked, a bit shocked. Miranda was his friend. He'd seen her be kind and selfless, throwing herself between danger and innocent lives but Fish had also seen a darker side to her and the last thing he associated with Miranda Ryan was motherhood.

Henry immediately coloured. It had been a small slip of the tongue. He gave Fish a warning look and said, "Only once, a son. Never mention him to her, Joe. It is a loss from which she has never recovered."

"What happened to him?" Fish asked, sad for his friend.

"He grew old and died," Henry said, simply. He put the popcorn down onto the coffee table. He decided to change the subject. After glancing over his shoulder at the hallway, he asked, in a quiet voice, "What happened in Seattle, Joe?"

"We really shouldn't talk about that with Tom in the apartment, Henry," Fish said, picking the popcorn back up.

"Those dreadful pills he takes to sleep render him unconscious for hours, Joe," Henry said.

Fish shook his head. "It still isn't safe, Henry."

"I'm certain if Tom overheard anything-"

"It isn't just about him knowing, Henry. It's about what would happen to him if anyone found out he knew. It's not worth the risk to Tom."

"I understand," Henry said, softly. "We'll talk about it tomorrow?"

"If you don't mind taking Tom out in the morning for breakfast or lunch or something when you move his things to the hotel? I'm going to ring Evie and Jack while you're both out," Fish said, crossing his arms over his chest. "We can talk afterwards, okay?"

Henry nodded and returned to his television programme. When it was over, the two of them tidied the apartment. They wandered back towards their bedroom and got ready for bed, side by side at the double sinks. They climbed under the blankets and Henry let out a sound of appreciation as he slipped between the sheets.

Fish climbed into bed next to him, laying there for a few moments after getting comfortable. Henry had a book propped up on his belly and was reading quietly as he learned he often did before bed. Fish had a better idea how to relax at the end of the day. He slid his leg up and down Henry’s, resting his knee right on top of Henry’s crotch. Henry didn’t seem to get the message. One hand left his book and rested itself gently on Fish’s bare thigh. That hand made no move up or down, just settled against him. Disappointed, Fish plucked the book from Henry’s hands. He hooked his heel around Henry’s knee, pulling his thighs apart and then rolled between them.

"My son is in the next room, Joe,” Henry pointed out. His face may have been neutral but Fish could feel him hardening.

"And you didn't pay enough for this place for it to have thick walls?" Fish asked, rolling his hips.

Henry grinned. He hooked his own leg behind Fish’s and grabbed his hip. With surprising strength, he flipped them. ”I would have thought you'd prefer discretion… but if you insist, love…"

Fish bit his bottom lip to stifle the loud moan he made as Henry latched his mouth low on his neck and sucked, hard. He fisted one of his hands in the sheets and slammed his eyes shut as Henry ground down. He bit into his lip harder.

Okay, maybe this hadn't been such a great idea. Tom was in the next room and Fish had no idea how he’d keep quiet enough. Some of the loudest and most obscene noises had begun escaping his lips since he'd starting sleeping with Henry Fitzroy. Henry had pushed his pajama bottoms down just enough to expose himself and he shifted, sliding their erections together. Fish let out a loud moan.

"Shh," Henry said.

Fish grinned and then flipped them, again.

"You're amazing," he whispered, ghosting his lips across Henry's chest. "I love you so much…"

Fish pulled Henry’s t-shirt over his head and dropped it. He latched his mouth on Henry's nipple and Henry’s breath hitched in his throat. He was licking his way over to the other one, enjoying the taste of Henry's skin. Henry’s legs kicked away his pyjama bottoms and they ended up somewhere beneath the sheets. He tugged Fish's head up, dragging him in for a steamy kiss.

"Joe…" Henry looked into his eyes, brushing his fingers down his face. They kissed again and tumbled, Henry rolling on top of Fish, pressing him into the bed. Fish reached out blindly for the bedside drawer's handle.

Henry batted his hands away and opened the drawer himself. Impatient, he slicked his own fingers and then reached behind himself. Fish nearly came from the sight alone. Henry’s face was flushed and thrown back as he rode his own fingers. His erection jutted out, dripping clear fluid that made Fish’s mouth water. What turned Fish on the most were the lewd and obscene sounds coming from him. The moans and gasps went straight to his cock and piqued his curiosities.  _Damn, I really need to try that…_

Anticipating Henry’s next move, Fish blindly reached out for the lube bottle and slicked himself. Once Henry removed his fingers, he grasped Fish at the base, holding him stead as he impaled himself.

"Fuck…" Fish gasped. He didn’t know what was hotter - seeing or feeling his dick disappearing into Henry’s body.

"Shhh," Henry whispered.

Fish brought his fist up to his mouth and bit down, stifling a scream as he felt Henry’s hips rest against his own. Henry bent, leaning down to kiss Fish gently. "I love you…"

"I love you too," Fish whispered back.

Henry moved slowly, gyrating his hips and Fish turned his head, biting his bottom lip to strangle another scream. The welcoming heat, the velvety smoothness… Fish found himself drowning in the sensation of Henry's body.

"Oh God… Henry… you feel so fucking good…" Fish gasped. He reached up, running his hands over Henry’s legs and torso. Finally, he settled his hands on his lover’s hips, not guiding but just resting them there, allowing Henry to set the pace and force. He didn’t want it to end.

Then Henry leaned forward, stilling his movements as he kissed his lover’s neck.

"Fuck don't stop!" he cried, a little too loudly.

"Shh," Henry whispered. His erection was laying on Fish's belly, sliding and slapping on the lightly haired skin. Fish curled his fist around it. A surge of desire ran through him as he watched Henry's head fall back and he heard the low moan. He forced his eyes to stay open so he could watch Henry move on top of him.

"Joe… Harder," Henry demanded and let out a frustrated keen.

Unsure of what Henry meant, Fish squeezed the hard cock in his hands tighter and brought his hips up to meet Henry with more force.

Henry's head lolled to the side and his voice lowered as he let out a husky, "Yes!"

A few seconds later, Henry let out a wordless shout that was far too loud to be discrete and Fish felt hot come splattering his chest and belly. Henry's head was thrown back, his mouth open as he shouted his release, ecstasy on every inch of his face. His skin was flushed and shining with sweat. It was one of the most erotic things Fish had ever seen.

Lost in the afterglow of his orgasm, Henry had stopped moving but Fish continued to thrust upward into his lover. Henry began to sway forward and Fish caught him, flipping them so that he was on top. Fish sucked on Henry's neck before thrusting into him again, trying to remember the proper angle from last night.

"AH!" Henry shouted.

Fish felt Henry's fingers digging into his back, almost painfully, as the head of his cock impacted Henry's overly sensitised prostate. He was so close.

"Oh God… Henry!" Fish buried his face in the pillow to stifle the scream as his whole body went rigid. His cock erupted spurt after spurt of hot come into Henry's tight channel and Fish collapsed onto his lover, panting. He rolled off of Henry as his back began to protest. Henry wiped them both down with a flannel from the bedside drawer and then wrapped his body around Fish, still trying to catch his breath. He pulled Henry in close, running his hands up and down his back.

"That was probably a little louder than it should've been," Fish said with a slight laugh.

"Those dreadful pills Tom takes are quite strong," Henry said, lazily kissing Fish's shoulder.

With a devilish grin, Fish tugged Henry up for a steamy kiss. "Well, if you're certain he's out cold…

 


	12. Chapter 12

Despite being up late, Fish woke up before dawn and couldn't fall back to sleep no matter how hard he tried. The memories of their escapades wouldn't fade from Fish's mind. Feeling groggy and in much need of coffee, he got out of bed as carefully so as not to disturb Henry's sleep. He took out some clothes, got dressed, and went to make himself a cup of coffee. Yawning, he walked out into the lounge. If Tom hadn't woken up with all their shouting and moaning, there was no way simply walking through the hall would disturb him. Fish probably should have taken a shower, but he didn't want to risk waking Henry and surely it was too early for…

"Morning, Joe," Tom said, quietly from the sofa. 

  
_Bugger!_ Fish stopped in his tracks. Bad choice of word… and then he started to blush. He cleared his throat, nervously. Thank God, he wasn't the type to walk around starkers. "Morning, Tom. Uhh, Henry's still asleep. Why are you doing up so early?"

"Had the damnedest time trying to sleep last night," Tom said, staring at him. "Figured the couch would get me away from you two." 

Fish tried, desperately, but he could feel the heat on his face intensify. It started at his t-shirt collar and moved upwards. In seconds, his face felt so hot he thought his nose would burn off and his hair spontaneously combust. He couldn't even look at Tom as he fled for the kitchen to turn on the brewer. 

"Wow, man, you are one easy fucking target. I slept like a baby. I'm on New York time. If you two were going at it last night, I didn't hear a thing," Tom said, laughing under his breath. He got up and leaned against the counter, grinning at Fish.   

While the brewer warmed up, he got out the cream and the sugar for Fish. He handed them over to the other man. 

"Though that giant fucking hickey on your neck that wasn't there yesterday is the dead give away," Tom deadpanned. 

Fish almost dropped the cream, clapping his hand to his neck. He blushed even harder. 

"I am a detective, you know," Tom laughed. "Wow, busting your balls is so much fucking fun." 

Fish turned redder and redder by the minute. Sadly, he found himself missing Ianto Jones. At least the Welshman would take only one swing at him, laugh, and then leave him be. Tom seemed to enjoy tossing barb after barb at him until you could fry an egg on Fish's face. He began stirring his coffee. He gave in and tried to make the most of the banter. He chuckled and said, "If you're done taking the piss…" 

"I'm sorry, man, I can't resist," Tom said, laughing again. "Taking the what, now?" 

"Can't resist what, Thomas?" asked Henry, flatly, coming out of the hallway. 

Tom's amusement vanished and was replaced with panic. He tried to throw his father an innocent look Henry saw through immediately-as parents do. "Nothing, Dad." 

"Dad?" Henry's eyebrows went straight up and then his eyes narrowed. "What are you up to, young man?" 

Fish smothered a grin as he sipped his coffee, hiding behind his mug. The juxtaposition was hilarious. Henry's teenage face was full of parental authority while Tom's grey framed one was full of child-like sheepishness. Tom looked at him, almost begging Fish to say something, but he shrugged and coughed to cover his laughter. 

"Just kidding around," Tom said, still trying to sound innocent. 

"At Joe's expense, I take it?" Henry asked, sternly. 

Tom shifted nervously and looked down at his feet. The man may be nearly forty, but at that moment he looked like a boy caught red handed in some mischief. Fish remembered quite a few dressings down from his own father and Henry had the exact same look on his face. 

"Leave off, Henry," Fish said. "It's a bloke thing." 

Henry cocked an eyebrow at his lover. "And what am I, Joe?" 

"I'll rephrase," Fish corrected, "it's a twentieth century bloke thing." 

Henry looked from his son to his lover and back again. He shook his head. 

"That bakery a few blocks over still there, Pop?" Tom asked. He was eager to escape the situation before he got himself into more trouble with his father. 

Henry nodded as he disconnected his mobile from its charger. "Yes, I'll take a chocolate croissant if you're going. I'm going to ring the hotel."  

Tom nodded. "Joe?" 

"Anything with apple in it, thanks," Fish said. He started digging in his messenger bag for his wallet but Tom waved him off. "Hey, Tom? What time is your flight leaving tomorrow?" 

"Umm, around midnight I think," Tom said as he shrugged into his jacket. "Don't go too crazy with the hotel room, Pop. It's only for one night. I don't need nothing fancy." 

"Anything," Henry corrected. Fish smiled at Tom's eye roll. 

After their breakfast, Tom grudgingly accepted Henry's assistance in moving his things to the hotel. He also protested against the father-son lunch Henry proposed, not wanting to interrupt Henry and Fish's time together but Fish had insisted. He needed the privacy. 

The first thing on his list was to change the plans for Henry's birthday. He'd secured a booking at a posh restaurant in downtown Vancouver for Sunday before he'd arrived. Now, he rang the restaurant and changed the booking to earlier in the evening and from two people to three. Sure, he'd planned on a romantic dinner for Henry's birthday, but there was no way Fish could or would exclude Henry's son from the occasion. He dug in the rubbish for the bakery box. He rang them and ordered a small cake overflowing with chocolate-Henry's favourite. Those tasks done, Fish looked at the clock. It was still too early to ring Cardiff. Fish wanted to catch Jack and Miranda after the work day, so he went about killing an hour with housework. He dug Henry's hoover out of the hall cupboard and started in the kitchen. 

The day they'd moved in together, Olivia had created an elaborate chart of household chores, dividing them equally between the two of them. She'd even established a rota, so one of them wasn't always stuck with the same job. As a genius with a chemistry doctorate from one of the most prestigious universities in the world, Fish had found the chart utterly incomprehensible. Eventually, he gave up trying to read the thing and started performing random chores as he saw fit. Exasperated, Olivia had started to tell him which chores to do when and the housework became a source of friction between them. Thankfully, he and Henry appeared to be finding their own way. 

Once he was done, Fish put the hoover back into the cupboard. He noticed a layer of dust on one of the shelves. He couldn't locate anything for dusting, but he did know where the clean linens were. It didn't take Fish long to strip the bed and replace the sheets. He dumped the old sheets into the hamper and headed back into the lounge. He didn't think of any other household chores he could do without knowing where something was, so he settled down on the sofa and opened his laptop. He downloaded the encrypted files MiB had sent him, and began the process to decrypt them. He let out a slight groan when he saw the process wouldn't finish until the late afternoon. He got up and started a load of laundry, deciding to try and ring the Hub while he waited for it to finish.

 

* * *

 

After a pleasant lunch with his son, Henry returned to the apartment. He was about to put his key into the door when he furrowed his brow. He could hear the muffled sound of Fish shouting. When he got inside, he flinched at the volume. Fish was pacing the lounge, shouting into his phone and gesticulating with his arm. He was red faced and more furious than Henry had ever seen him. 

"No, Evie… No!… You should have seen them… It's not just a fucking joke, Jack, it's a fucking catastrophe!… yes… YES! I said with his bare fucking hands… They're out of their minds…." Fish stopped pacing to throw his hand up and then resumed. "Why the fuck are you making excuses for the incompetence, Evie? They could have used a pair of fucking tongs… I have no idea where the problem started but what the fuck difference does it make, Jack?… They didn't know that mauve was the universal colour for danger! A wet behind the ears UNIT private barely a week into basic training knows not to touch anything with their bare hands let alone something mauve!…There's no critical thinking skills. No common fucking sense..." 

Henry flinched. He went into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. The visit to MiB in Seattle had not gone well at all. Henry's heart sank. 

"…No, there is no way, Jack!… No, Jack, I can't fix it!… For fuck's sake, Evie, it'd be like putting a plaster on a fucking gun shot wound to the head! Donovan could hire all five of us and it still would take years to fix it! So, no, I didn't take the bloody job… Of course, I think training with us would be beneficial. I made the suggestion… No, he wasn't too keen on it at first but I appealed to his better nature…" 

Henry heart sank further. Fish had chosen not to accept the position. Henry dumped the rest of his water down the sink and stood there, his hands planted on the counter. When he had spoken with Miranda about the dangers of Fish's job, Miranda had been honest and truthful with him about Fish's life expectancy. Fish had been working for Torchwood just over three years now. _Four years,_ Henry's mind hissed at him. He tried to gain control over the grief welling up in his chest and failed. He looked down at his open hand, remembering a soft white glove and freshly turned earth, and a slab of marble gleaming in the morning sun. The name etched in stone had been blurred by tears and a hand on his shoulder as a voice begged, 'Come away, Henry…'

The sound of Fish's raised voice brought Henry out of the memory. He hastily wiped the tears from his eyes. 

"…He said he'd arrange everything… Two weeks at least but a month would be better… That's being a bit harsh, Evie. I don't think he'd get himself killed. He's a smart bloke and isn't it worth trying?… I know exactly how you feel about every other alien agency in the world, Jack, and normally I'd agree with you but we finally have a chance to do something about it instead of just whinging about how the rest of them are completely thick!" Fish continued to yell into his mobile. "Yeah… You two talk it over and let me know… NO, JACK! I don't think this should wait till I get back!…" 

Fish continued to bark and yell into his mobile. The angry conversation went on for so long that Henry began to fear for his lover's blood pressure. Henry lifted his head when he heard the sound of something impacting a cushion. Fish, done with his phone call, had thrown his mobile into the sofa.

"Joe, calm down, please," Henry said. He walked over to where Fish was standing and put a reassuring hand on his arm. 

"I can't, Henry. You should have seen this…" 

"Yes, he picked the item up with his bare hands. I heard… several times…" Henry sighed. 

"Do you have any idea what can happen if you just pick something up and you don't know what the fuck it does!?" Fish shouted. "I had to watch Evie put a bullet in a ten year old kid because he picked up something with his bare hands!" 

Fish ran his hands through his hair and sighed. He sat down on the sofa. "Do you have any idea what will happen if something major lands on American soil with MiB in this state?"

"Be that as it may, Joe-"

"Will you stop it with that patronising bollocks?" Fish snapped.

Henry's straightened his spine and in a cool, even voice said, "I understand you are upset at this debacle, Joe, but I am not an object upon which you can vent your frustrations." He gestured at the mobile telephone buried in his sofa. 

Fish stopped and sighed. He stood up and put his arms around Henry's neck. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Henry insisted, shaking his head. 

"No, it's not. I shouldn't take it out on you. I'm not supposed to be working and this is supposed to be our time together. I'm sorry." 

Henry lowered his voice and tried to keep the disappointment out of it. He sat down on the sofa. "You've decided not to accept the position?"

Fish sighed and sat down again. "The problem is too big to be solved alone, Henry." 

"That doesn't discount the option, Joe. You could organise and implement the changes Torchwood recommends…" Henry started but trailed off as he saw the look on his lover's face. He swallowed his disappointment and his grief. 

"I'm sorry, Henry." 

Henry shook his head. His voice was unsteady when he spoke. "You don't need to apologise. Please excuse me, Joe." 

He strode from the room, pieces of his heart breaking away.

* * *

Fish didn't try to stop Henry as he stood up stiffly and walked towards their bedroom. He'd heard the tears on the edge of Henry's words. Fish waited a few minutes and then slowly made his way down the hallway. The door was shut and Fish knocked lightly. 

"Henry?" he called out. 

There was no answer at first. Fish waited a minute, assumed Henry wanted to be left alone and turned away from the door. Just as he did, he heard Henry's voice. 

"It's not locked, Joe." 

Fish winced at the sound. His lover's voice was rough and had cracked. He opened the door and stepped into the room. Henry was sitting in the arm chair by the window. He quickly closed the sketchbook in his lap and shoved his handkerchief into his pocket. Fish came up behind him and put his hand on his shoulder. 

"You okay?" Fish asked. 

"Fine," Henry said, flatly. 

"I know you're disappointed, Henry." 

"It is your decision," Henry said, again, flatly. He stood up and put the sketchbook onto the dresser. He rested his hand on it and bowed his head. 

"It's our decision," Fish corrected. 

"Which you seem to have already made," Henry snapped. He took a deep breath and then added in a softer voice, "I'm sorry… I don't mean to snap." 

"No, you're right," Fish sighed. He sat down in the arm chair. He'd made the decision without so much as talking to Henry at all. He'd decided that since becoming deputy director wouldn't solve MiB's problems that that was the end of it and it wasn't. "What you said before is a possibility too. Donovan is going to come train with us and then we're all going to go make suggestions. I could stay with Torchwood and then transfer to MiB to facilitate the policy changes like you said." 

"You sound skeptical," Henry said. He settled into his pensive look and brooding posture. His left arm was across his body, hugging his chest. His other elbow was bent, resting on his hand. The index finger of that hand was hooked over his upper lip. 

"It just sounds so bloody boring, Henry," Fish lamented. "I hated all that management shite at ECO UK. I didn't want to be filling out performance reviews and drafting memos. I hated seeing to the scheduling and nagging people to turn in the proper forms. I wanted to be in the lab. I don't know how this will be any different. Stuck behind a desk? Running drills and spot checking field offices?" 

"Perhaps you could have a trial period," Henry offered. 

"What do you mean?" 

"After Torchwood makes its recommendations, you could assist MiB in their implementation. Not a permanent change, just something for a short while." 

"Transfer to MiB on a temporary basis so that I could still go back to Torchwood if I'm bloody miserable," Fish said with a nod. "I feel like I'm getting ahead of myself here. This training thing with Donovan is probably a ways off."

"You still need to see the specialist about your knee," Henry pointed out. 

Fish nodded. He shook his head, he'd forgotten all about his bloody knee. "The trial run is a good idea, Henry, but maybe we should wait until I see the doctor. If I lose my field clearance, the job at MiB is more of an option." 

"Your field work is that important to you, Joe?" Henry asked. 

"It is. Actually, I thought I'd hate it," Fish admitted. "I was always the lab geek."

"Then why go through the certification process?" Henry asked with his brow creased. 

"The rest of the team was stretched so thin. I just wanted to help out. Best part of my bloody job now," Fish said with a shake of his head. "I was never a thrill seeker but I get twitchy if I'm cooped up in the Hub too long. I'm turning into an adrenaline junkie, I guess." 

Henry nodded. "I understand, Joe. I enjoy the occasional extreme sport." 

"Excuse me?" Fish exclaimed. He looked at Henry with astonishment, his eyebrows raising upward. 

"I enjoy rock climbing, the free solo variety." 

"Free solo?" Fish asked. 

"No ropes or harnesses. I've slowly been expanding. I went BASE jumping last year." 

"BASE jumping? You went BASE jumping?" Fish asked. His eyebrows were climbing higher. He'd had no idea Henry was interested in extreme sports. The whole point of extreme sports was the thrill of danger. What adrenaline rush could an immortal gain from such an experience? Certainly not the thrill of danger. What danger was Henry in? "I hope you won't mind if I never join you for any of that! Okay the rock climbing sounds fun, but I hope you won't be offended if I prefer it with a rope and harness." 

Henry smiled. "I would insist on it, Joe. When I was first learning, I fell a number of times. But I believe we've strayed from our topic." 

"I don't think there's much more to talk about, Henry. We won't know more until I see the doctor but we have a good couple of good options here," Fish said with a sigh. He leaned forward and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Henry looked at the clock. It was still early in the afternoon. He walked over to Fish and ran his fingers through his hair. He settled his hands on his shoulders, kneading them gently. "Why don't you go for a run, love? It will clear your mind." 

"You sure?" Fish asked. "Your show is tonight." 

"Positive, go. We have plenty of time," Henry said with a smile. "I hope you don't mind but Tom will be joining us for an early supper tonight. I told him we'd drive him to the gallery." 

"That's fine, Henry and I'm sorry, it's your day and I'm spoiling it with all this work bollocks," Fish said. 

"You are doing no such thing. I do not understand why you and Tom seem to be making such a fuss about this show opening, I find it tedious," Henry insisted with a smile. "Go for your run." 

An idea suddenly popped into Fish's mind. "Yeah, I think I will. I won't be gone long." 

Fish changed into his running clothes and strapped on his special holster. He kissed Henry goodbye and took the lift down. His run provided Fish with the perfect opportunity to speak to Tom alone. When Fish got down to street level, he started jogging towards the Pan Pacific Hotel. He walked into the lobby, awkwardly smiling at the doorman. He knew he looked a bit of a mess, some of the staff were giving him curious looks. Feeling self conscious, he walked up to the front desk while he wrapped his earbud wires around his iPod. 

"Can I help you?" the clerk asked, giving him a strange look. 

"Yeah, I'm looking for a guest. Thomas Blount. B-L-O-U-N-T. I don't know what room he's in," Fish said. 

"Is Mr. Blount expecting you, sir?" The clerk was still giving him the strange look. She began typing in her computer. 

"No. Tell him it's Joe Fischer, please," Fish said. He watched the clerk skeptically pick up the phone and dial. 

Speaking in a soft voice, "I apologise for interrupting you, Mr. Blount. This is the front desk. You have a visitor here… Yes, sir… He says his name is Joe Fischer… Of course, sir," the clerk hung up the phone and turned to Fish. "My apologies, Doctor Fischer. Mr. Blount is in room 408. Would you like for me to have someone show you up?" 

"No thanks, I'll find it fine," Fish said with a friendly smile. He turned around and headed towards the lifts and rode up to the fourth floor. 

He checked the sign on the wall when he got out and turned left. The low number was deceiving. Fish expected the room to be close to the lifts but he had to turn round another corner and walk down to the end of the hallway before he found it. He knocked on the door and waited. 

"Hey! Joe! This is a surprise, c'mon in! Take a load off," Tom said boisterously. He clapped Fish on the shoulder and led him into the room. "So what brings you by? Pop's okay isn't he? I just sent him back to you." 

"He's fine, Tom," Fish said. "Actually, he doesn't know I'm here. He thinks I'm out running." 

Tom plopped down onto the edge of the bed. "Oh, don't tell me you're here to ask me for my blessing to marry him or some shit like that." 

Fish felt his eyes go wide and his jaw drop. Tom's assumption caught him completely off guard. 

Tom mirrored the panic in Fish's face. "Oh shit! Is that really why you're here? I'm sorry, Joe, I was just joking around!" 

"NO!" Fish exclaimed, finally coming to his senses. He said, a little calmer, "No, Tom. I know it's short notice but I was planning on doing something tomorrow for Henry's birthday. I know it's not till June but I wanted to celebrate it early since I'm here. Well, both of us are here now. Nothing big, just dinner out and some cake back at the apartment. We can do everything early enough that you'll still make your flight." 

"Sounds great, Joe," Tom said but there was a hesitation, "but Pop's not too keen on birthdays." 

"What?" Fish asked. 

"I said, Pop's not too keen on birthdays. The man's going to be four hundred and ninety three. Don't you think you'd eventually want to stop counting?" Tom said with a laugh that was hollow and empty.  

"What's the real reason, Tom?" Fish demanded. He would have thought a police detective would be a better liar. 

Tom sighed. If the subject hadn't been so serious, Fish would have laughed at the expression on Tom's face. It was an exact mirror of Henry's pensiveness. 

"He doesn't like to be reminded of how he's outlived everyone and everything he's ever loved," Tom said quietly. "Don't you get it? We celebrate birthdays because each one's a gift. You and I'll be worm food while he's going on having birthday after fucking birthday. He doesn't like being reminded of that." 

"Is that what he told you?" Fish asked. 

"In not so many words, yeah," Tom said. He dropped his thick New York accent, and in an exact imitation of Henry's Received Pronunciation, said, "'No one should rejoice in living longer than God ever intended.'" Tom dropped the English accent and said, "I'm just warning you, he doesn't get overly enthusiastic. He humoured me a lot when I was a kid. Accepted the handmade cards and the crap mugs I made in school. He tried to pretend, he really did, but I could see the pain in his eyes. Eventually, he... he asked me to stop so I did." 

Fish shook his head. Tom wasn't telling him something. He could feel it, but decided not to press and said, "I know what you mean. I'd like to go through one 24 hour period when I don't see grief in his eyes when he looks at me." 

"Join the club there, man. You think it's killing the mood when you're laying in the afterglow? Try growing up with that shit. You know, I never climbed into my Dad's bed in the middle of the night when I was little. He'd climb into mine. He'd hold me at night and cry. I'd just lay there, listening to him, pretending to be asleep. Every day I wondered why my father was so fucking sad when he looked at me," Tom said, bitterly. "You are preaching to the mother fucking choir there." 

"Do you think I should let it go?" Fish asked, seriously. Birthdays had been a big deal in his family the idea of letting Henry's birthday pass upset him but he didn't want to make Henry angry with him either. 

"He loves you, Joe. I've never seen him look at anybody the way he looks at you. Even when he's flipping through that old as dirt sketchbook of his," Tom said, with a wry smile. "He'll put on a brave face for us. I mean, he hasn't flipped out yet, has he?"

"He doesn't know, it's a surprise," Fish admitted. 

Tom's eyes widened. He warned, "Now, that is not a good idea, Joe. If there's one thing Pop hates more than birthdays, it's fucking surprises." 

Fish frowned. "It's just dinner and cake…" 

"Wow, you got it bad. Don't you dare fucking sing to him and do not ambush him with this shit!" Tom said, raising his voice. "You might be plugging it with your dick too much to notice but the sun does not shine out of my old man's ass. You know Auntie Mei-Mei? She used to sew my fucking Halloween costumes and sing me songs and check for monsters under my bed, but sometimes she could make the hair on my arms stand up. And that look on your face says you know just what the fuck I'm talking about. Don't you fucking forget that my father learned how to kill at her knee. Have you seen my old man angry yet? I mean really fucking angry? He's got a nasty fucking temper on him, Joe, I shit you not. He hides it good behind that old fashioned English stiff upper lip bullshit but if you blindside him with a surprise birthday shindig you will royally piss him off. Here's some advice for you, Joe. Do not. Piss off. My father." 


	13. Chapter 13

Henry was just returning from his lunch with Tom. He was about to put his key into the apartment door when he furrowed his brow. He could hear the muffled sound of Fish shouting. When he got inside, he flinched at the scene. Fish was pacing the lounge, shouting into his phone and gesticulating with his arm. He was red faced and more furious than Henry had ever seen him. 

"No, Evie… No!… You should have seen them… It's not just a fucking joke, Jack, it's a fucking catastrophe!… yes… YES! I said with his bare fucking hands… They're out of their minds…." Fish stopped pacing to throw his hand up and then resumed. "Why the fuck are you making excuses for the incompetence, Evie? They could have used a pair of fucking tongs… I have no idea where the problem started but what the fuck difference does it make, Jack?… They didn't know that mauve was the universal colour for danger! A wet behind the ears UNIT private barely a week into basic training knows not to touch anything with their bare hands let alone something mauve!…" 

Henry flinched. He went into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. The visit to MiB in Seattle had not gone well at all. Henry felt his heart sink a bit. 

"…No, there is no way, Jack!… No, Jack, I can't fix it!… For fuck's sake, Evie, it'd be like putting a plaster on a fucking gun shot wound to the head! Donovan could hire all five of us and it still would take years to fix it! So, no, I didn't take the bloody job… Of course, I think training with us would be beneficial. I made the suggestion… No, he wasn't too keen on it at first but I appealed to his better nature…" 

Henry felt his heart fall further. Fish had chosen not to accept the position. He dumped rest of his water into the sink and stood there, his hands planted on the counter. When he had spoken with Miranda about the dangers of Fish's job, Miranda had been honest and truthful with him when she'd told him that the longest a Torchwood agent had ever served was seven years. Fish had been working for Torchwood just over three years now. _Four years…_ Henry's mind hissed at him. He tried to gain control over the grief welling up in his chest. He tried to reason with himself, repeating Miranda's words to himself over and over again along with his own rationales but still his heart continued to sink. A vivid memory filled him - soft earth in his one hand, a glove gripped in the other… his knees wet from kneeling on the freshly turned dirt… Matthew's name etched in stone, blurred by tears… a hand on his shoulder and a voice begging, _'Come away, Henry…'_ \- and all Henry could picture was Fish's name on that stone. 

"…He said he'd arrange everything… Two weeks at least but a month would be better… That's being a bit harsh, Evie. I don't think he'd get himself killed! He's a smart bloke and isn't it worth trying?… I know exactly how you feel about every other alien agency in the world, Jack, and normally I'd agree with you but we finally have a chance to _do_ something about it instead of just whinging about how the rest of them are completely thick!" Fish continued to yell into his mobile. "Yeah… You two talk it over and let me know… NO, JACK! I don't think this should wait till I get back!…" 

Fish continued to bark and yell into his mobile. The angry conversation went on for so long that Henry began to fear for his lover's blood pressure. Henry lifted his head when he heard the sound of something impacting a cushion. Fish, done with his phone call, had thrown his mobile into the sofa. Henry could see his lover was still fuming. 

"Joe, calm down, please," Henry said. He walked over to where Fish was standing and put a reassuring hand on his arm. 

"I can't, Henry. You should have seen this…" 

"Yes, he picked the item up with his bare hands. I heard… several times…" Henry sighed. 

"Do you have any idea what can happen if you just pick something up and you don't know what the fuck it does!?" Fish shouted. "I had to watch Evie put a bullet in a ten year old kid because he picked up something with his bare hands!" 

Fish ran his hands through his hair and sighed. He sat down on the sofa. "Do you have any idea what will happen if something major lands on American soil with MiB in this state?"

"Be that as it may, Joe-"

"Will you stop it with that patronising bollocks?" Fish snapped.

His voice cold and carefully even, Henry said, "I understand you are upset at this debacle, Joe, but I am not an object upon which you can vent your frustrations." 

Fish stopped and sighed. He stood up and put his arms around Henry's neck. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Henry insisted, shaking his head. 

"No, it's not. I shouldn't take it out on you. I'm not supposed to be working and this is supposed to be our time together. I'm sorry." 

Henry lowered his voice and tried to keep the disappointment out of it. He sat down on the sofa. "You've decided not to accept the position?"

Fish sighed and sat down again. Henry had heard the bulk of his conversation. "The problem is too big to be solved alone, Henry." 

"That doesn't discount the option, Joe. You could organise and implement the changes Torchwood recommends…" Henry started but trailed off as he saw the look on his lover's face. He swallowed his disappointment and his grief. 

"I'm sorry, Henry." 

Henry shook his head. His voice was unsteady when he spoke. "You don't need to apologise. Please excuse me, Joe." 

Fish didn't try to stop Henry as he stood up stiffly and walked towards their bedroom. He'd heard the tears on the edge of Henry's words. Fish waited a few minutes and then slowly made his way down the hallway. The door was shut and Fish knocked lightly. 

"Henry?" he called out. 

There was no answer at first. Fish waited a minute, assumed Henry wanted to be left alone and turned away from the door. Just as he did, he heard Henry's voice. 

"It's not locked, Joe." 

Fish winced at the sound. His lover's voice was rough and had cracked a bit. He opened the door and stepped into the room. Henry was sitting in the arm chair by the window. He quickly closed the sketchbook in his lap and shoved his handkerchief into his pocket. Fish came up behind him and put his hand on his shoulder. 

"You okay?" Fish asked. 

"Fine," Henry said, flatly. 

"I know you're disappointed, Henry." 

"It is your decision," Henry said, again, flatly. He stood up and put the sketchbook onto the dresser. He rested his hand on it and bowed his head. 

"It's _our_ decision," Fish corrected. 

"Which you seem to have already made," Henry snapped. He took a deep breath and then added in a softer voice, "I'm sorry… I don't mean to snap." 

"No, you're right," Fish sighed. He sat down in the arm chair. He'd made the decision without so much as talking to Henry at all. He'd decided that since becoming deputy director wouldn't solve MiB's problems that that was the end of it and it wasn't. "What you said before is a possibility too. Donovan is going to come train with us and then we're all going to go make suggestions. I could stay with Torchwood and then transfer to MiB to facilitate the policy changes like you said." 

"You sound skeptical," Henry said, relieved that his lover was finally discussing this with him seriously. He settled into his pensive look and brooding posture. His left arm was across his body, hugging his chest. His other elbow was bent, resting on his hand. The index finger of that hand was hooked over his upper lip. 

"It just sounds so bloody boring, Henry," Fish lamented. "I hated all that management shite at ECO UK. I didn't want to be filling out performance reviews and drafting memos. I hated seeing to the scheduling and nagging people to turn in the proper forms. I wanted to be in the lab. I don't know how this will be any different. Stuck behind a desk? Running drills and spot checking field offices?" 

"Perhaps you could have a trial period," Henry offered. 

"What do you mean?" 

"After Torchwood makes its recommendations, you could assist MiB in their implementation. Not a permanent change, just something for a short while." 

"Transfer to MiB on a temporary basis so that I could still go back to Torchwood if I'm bloody miserable," Fish said with a nod. "I feel like I'm getting ahead of myself here. This training thing with Donovan is probably a ways off."

"You still need to see the specialist about your knee," Henry pointed out. 

Fish nodded. He shook his head, he'd forgotten all about his bloody knee. "The trial run is a good idea, Henry, but maybe we should wait until I see the doctor. If I lose my field clearance, the job at MiB is more of an option." 

"Your field work is that important to you, Joe?" Henry asked. 

"It is. Actually, I thought I'd hate it," Fish admitted. 

"Then why go through the certification process?" Henry asked with his brow creased. 

"The rest of the team was stretched so thin. I just wanted to help out. Best part of my bloody job now," Fish said with a shake of his head. He'd always been a lab squint, puttering away with equipment and chemicals but that wasn't who he was anymore. "I was never a thrill seeker but I get twitchy if I'm cooped up in the Hub too long. I'm turning into an adrenaline junkie, I guess." 

Henry nodded. "I understand, Joe. I enjoy the occasional extreme sport." 

"Excuse me?" Fish exclaimed. He looked at Henry with astonishment, his eyebrows raising upward. 

"I enjoy rock climbing, the free solo variety." 

"Free solo?" Fish asked. 

"No ropes or harnesses. I've slowly been expanding. I went BASE jumping last year." 

"BASE jumping? You went BASE jumping?" Fish asked. His eyebrows were climbing higher. He'd had no idea Henry was interested in extreme sports. The whole point of extreme sports was the thrill of danger. What adrenaline rush could an immortal gain from such an experience? Certainly not the thrill of danger. What danger was Henry in? "I hope you won't mind if I never join you for any of that! Okay the rock climbing sounds fun but I hope you won't be offended if I prefer it with a rope and harness." 

Henry smiled. "I would insist on it, Joe. When I was first learning, I fell a number of times. But I believe we've strayed from our topic." 

"I don't think there's much more to talk about, Henry. We won't know more until I see the doctor but we have a good couple of good options here," Fish said with a sigh. He leaned forward and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Henry looked at the clock. It was still early in the afternoon. He walked over to Fish and ran his fingers through his hair. He settled his hands on his shoulders, kneading them gently. "Why don't you go for a run, love? It will clear your mind." 

"You sure?" Fish asked. "Your show is tonight." 

"Positive, go. We have plenty of time," Henry said with a smile. "I hope you don't mind but Tom will be joining us for an early supper tonight. I told him we'd drive him to the gallery." 

"That's fine, Henry and I'm sorry, it's your day and I'm spoiling it with all this work bollocks," Fish said. 

"You are doing no such thing. I do not understand why you and Tom seem to be making such a fuss about this show opening, I find it tedious," Henry insisted with a smile. "Go for your run." 

An idea suddenly popped into Fish's mind. "Yeah, I think I will. I won't be gone long." 

Fish changed into his running clothes. He strapped on his special holster and popped his iPod bud into his ear. He kissed Henry goodbye and took the lift down. His run provided Fish with the perfect opportunity to speak to Tom alone. When Fish got down to street level, he started jogging towards the Pan Pacific Hotel. He walked into the lobby, awkwardly smiling at the doorman. He knew he looked a bit of a mess, some of the staff were giving him curious looks. Feeling a bit self conscious, he walked up to the front desk while he wrapped his earbud wires around his iPod. 

"Can I help you?" the clerk asked, giving him a strange look. 

"Yeah, I'm looking for a guest? Thomas Blount? B-L-O-U-N-T. I don't know what room he's in," Fish said. 

"Is Mr. Blount expecting you, sir?" The clerk was still giving him the strange look. She began typing in her computer. 

"No. Tell him it's Joe Fischer, please," Fish said. He watched the clerk skeptically pick up the phone and dial. 

Speaking in a soft voice, "I apologise for interrupting you, Mr. Blount. This is the front desk. You have a visitor here… Yes, sir… He says his name is Joe Fischer… Of course, sir," the clerk hung up the phone and turned to Fish. "My apologies, Doctor Fischer. Mr. Blount is in room four oh eight. Would you like for me to have someone show you up?" 

"No thanks, I'll find it fine," Fish said with a friendly smile. He turned around and headed towards the lifts and rode up to the fourth floor. 

He checked the sign on the wall when he got out and turned left. The low number was deceiving. Fish expected the room to be close to the lifts but he had to turn round another corner and walk down to the end of the hallway before he found it. He knocked on the door and waited. 

"Hey! Joe! This is a surprise, c'mon in! Take a load off," Tom said boisterously. He clapped Fish on the shoulder and led him into the room. "So what brings you by? Pop's okay isn't he? I just sent him back to you." 

"He's fine, Tom," Fish said. "Actually, he doesn't know I'm here. He thinks I'm out running." 

Tom plopped down onto the edge of the bed. "Oh, please tell me you're not here to ask me for my blessing to marry him or some shit like that." 

Fish felt his eyes go wide and his jaw drop. Tom's assumption caught him completely off guard. 

Tom mirrored the panic in Fish's face. "Oh shit! That was a fucking joke, Joe! Is that really why you're here!?" 

"NO!" Fish exclaimed, finally coming to his senses. He said, a little calmer, "No, Tom. I know it's short notice but I was planning on doing something tomorrow for Henry's birthday. I know it's not till June but I wanted to celebrate it early since I'm here. Well, both of us are here now. Nothing big, just dinner out and some cake back at the apartment. We can do everything early enough that you'll still make your flight." 

"Sounds great, Joe," Tom said but there was a hesitation, "but Pop's not too keen on birthdays." 

"What?" Fish asked. 

"I said, Pop's not too keen on birthdays. The man's going to be four hundred and ninety three. Don't you think you'd eventually want to stop counting?" Tom said with a laugh that was hollow and empty.  

"What's the real reason, Tom?" Fish demanded. He would have thought a police detective would be a better liar. 

Tom sighed. If the subject hadn't been so serious, Fish would have laughed at the expression on Tom's face. It was an exact mirror of Henry's pensiveness. 

"He doesn't like to be reminded of how he's outlived everyone and everything he's ever loved," Tom said quietly. "Don't you get it? We celebrate birthdays because each one's a gift. You and I'll be worm food while he's going on having birthday after fucking birthday. He doesn't like being reminded of that." 

"Is that what he told you?" Fish asked. 

"In not so many words, yeah," Tom said. He dropped his thick New York accent and, in an exact imitation of Henry's received pronunciation, said, "'No one should rejoice in living longer than God ever intended.'" Tom dropped the English accent and said, "I'm just warning you, he doesn't get overly enthusiastic. He humoured me a lot when I was a kid. He accepted the handmade cards and the crap mugs I made in school. The years went by… he tried to pretend, he really did, Joe. But I could see the pain in his eyes. Eventually… he asked me to stop so I did." 

Fish shook his head. Tom wasn't telling him something. He could feel it. He decided not to press and said, "I know what you mean. I'd like to go through one twenty four hour period when I don't see grief in his eyes when he looks at me." 

"Join the club there, man. You think it's killing the mood when you're laying in the afterglow? Try growing up with that shit. You know, I never climbed into my Dad's bed in the middle of the night when I was little. He'd climb into mine. He'd hold me at night and cry. I'd just lay there, listening to him, pretending to be asleep. Every day I wondered why my father was so fucking sad when he looked at me," Tom said, bitterly. Like many children, he'd thought the reason for his father's sadness was his fault. He'd thought that maybe there was something about him that upset his father so much… eventually he'd thought that, maybe, he'd done something to drive his mother away and that was why his father was so sad. He'd thought that for years, growing up with that hanging over his head. It was why he'd been so furious with his father when he'd learned the truth about his mother. "You are preaching to the mother fucking choir there." 

"Do you think I should let it go?" Fish asked, seriously. Birthdays had been a big deal in his family the idea of letting Henry's birthday pass upset him but he didn't want to make Henry angry with him either. 

"He loves you, Joe. I've never seen him look at anybody the way he looks at you. Even when he's flipping through that fucking old as dirt sketchbook of his," Tom said, with a wry smile. "He'll put on a brave face for us. I mean, he hasn't flipped out yet, has he?"

"He doesn't know, it's a surprise," Fish admitted. 

Tom's eyes widened. He warned, "Now, that is _not_ a good idea, Joe. If there's something that Pop hates more than birthdays, it's fucking surprises." 

Fish frowned. "It's just dinner and cake…" 

"Wow, you got it bad. Don't you dare fucking sing to him and _do not_ ambush him with this shit!" Tom said, raising his voice. "You might be plugging it with your dick too much to notice but the sun does not shine out of my old man's ass, Joe. You know Auntie Mei-Mei? She used to sew my fucking Halloween costumes and sing me songs and check for monsters under my bed… and the only other person who made the hair stand up on the back of my neck like her was some guy we caught eating his mother bit by bit from his fucking freezer. And that look on your face says you know just what the fuck I'm talking about. Don't you fucking forget that my father learned how to kill beside her knee. Have you seen my old man angry yet? I mean really fucking angry? He's got a nasty fucking temper on him, Joe, I shit you not. He hides it good behind that old fashioned English stiff upper lip bullshit but if you blindside him with a surprise birthday shindig you will royally piss him off. Here's some advice for you, Joe. Do not. Piss off. My father." 


	14. Chapter 14

Fish had already been gone for nearly an hour. He'd told Henry he wouldn't be long but instead of returning to the apartment, he continued with his run. Again, he used the exercise as a way to clear his mind and as way to figure out what to say to Henry. As he ran, he thought about all the birthdays he'd spent as a child. They'd been big celebrations when he was a kid. In his family, birthdays were a celebration not just of your own life but of those who shared it with you. They were about being grateful for everything and everyone in your life. Fish had been looking forward to his birthday this year so he could celebrate it with Henry. What was his life without Henry in it? Even when all they were able to do was talk on the phone, Fish had looked forward to hearing his voice even if it was only for a few seconds. Their relationship was certainly unconventional and it hadn't been going on long but Henry made Fish happier than he'd ever been before. He was in love and he wanted to celebrate that, to rejoice in it with Henry. 

Unknowingly, he'd been using Miranda as a guide, as he tended to do with all things immortal. The immortal woman joyously celebrated the birthdays of those around her. A few days after Fish had joined Torchwood, he'd asked Miranda when her birthday was. She'd laughed and told him that she didn't know but that she liked to think it was in the spring. Fish had gotten together with the rest of the team. They'd tossed the spring months into one tin and the numbered dates into another. Fish had rattled the tin and Jack had selected two small slips of paper. When they'd surprised Miranda in the boardroom with gifts and cake, she'd been nearly giddy. They'd celebrated it as her birthday ever since. 

Fish was surprised that Henry was of a completely opposite opinion. The idea of letting Henry's birthday pass without notice upset him but he needed to be understanding. When Fish had first joined Torchwood and learned about Miranda and Jack's respective immortalities, he'd tried hard to wrap his brain around the idea of living forever. The more he thought about it, the more his head had hurt. Even now, he couldn't grasp the concept fully. The only thing he saw was how it affected Henry, Jack and Miranda and he saw the pain it brought them. He didn't want to make that pain worse for Henry. If it was what his lover wanted, Fish would ignore Henry's birthday. 

His thoughts had come full circle by the time he'd arrived back at the apartment. He dug into his pockets and realised he'd forgotten his keys. The doorman appeared to be on his break so he hit the buzzer. 

"Yes?" 

"Henry? It's me. I forgot my keys," Fish said. 

"Joe? Come up, love," Henry said and Fish heard the buzzer. 

He opened the door and got into the lift. He hit the button for the penthouse, hoping that Henry had remembered to flip the override switch so he wouldn't need the lift key. The lift opened and Fish stepped out into the small vestibule. He knocked on the door and waited. And waited. 

"Henry?" he called out. No answer. He frowned and knocked again. 

Finally, Fish heard the door opening. He reached down and started to wrap his earbud wire around his iPod. When he looked up, his throat went dry. Henry was a sweaty mess. His sword was in his hands. He was standing in the doorway wearing a pair of bike shorts and a tight fitting t-shirt. The t-shirt was damp and translucent, clinging to Henry's skin. Fish took a step into the apartment and the scent of sweat and Henry filled his nose and he felt his cock twitch a bit. It was something else that had surprised him. Not only did he find Henry's very male physique attractive, he also found his very male scent equally arousing. He'd love to drag Henry off to the shower and make love to him under the hot water but he didn't think they had time. The problem still turning over in his head was how he managed to restrain himself. 

"Practicing?" he asked. 

Henry nodded, laying his sword against the counter. He took out a bottle of water and handed it to Fish, opening one for himself. 

"I remember Evie said she wants you to start training with her again," Fish pointed out. 

"Yes, thank you for reminding me," Henry said, snapping a bit. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to take out my displeasure on you. Mao-Lin and I view the Game very differently. She is obsessed with her own survival. She devotes much of her time and energy to practicing the sword and honing her fighting skills as well as maintaining her physique. It is practically a compulsion with her, one that I find most unhealthy." 

"She's been alive a long time. She mentioned something to me about Ancient Rome once," Fish said absently. He drank down some of the water. "I mean, she must know what she's doing?" 

"Mao-Lin's longevity is impressive but I attribute her survival over the past four thousand years to her cunning more than her skills as a swordsman," Henry said with a shrug. 

Fish choked on his water. "Did you say four thousand years!?" 

Henry immediately stop drinking mid-sip. He looked at Fish. "You didn't know how old she was?"

Fish shook his head, completely speechless. 

"Please do not mention I let it slip. You are one of her closest friends. I thought you knew," Henry said, looking worried. "Her age is a delicate subject." 

"I can bloody see why," Fish said, shaking his head again. "If she's really as old as the fucking pyramids, she must be doing something right."

"As I said, Joe, I attribute it to her cunning rather than her skill. Such skill is important… to a point," Henry said. He tossed his empty water bottle into the bin. "I'm sorry to say that while I am a capable swordsman, I am no Chen Mao-Lin. In my opinion, there is a point where one's skills reach their peek." 

"And Evie doesn't think that," Fish said, understanding his lover's point. 

Henry shook his head. "No, she believes that something that can always be improved upon, that mere practice is all that is required."

Fish scoffed a bit, plugging in his mobile to charge. "Evie couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with a bloody bullet and that woman's in the firing range every week. You think she'd be a crack shot by now." 

"Precisely. She has been practicing with firearms since their invention and yet her aim is still poor but put a knife in her hand and she could split a hair at a hundred paces." Henry waved at his sword and said, "I believe there is a certain amount of natural talent required - a talent I do not have. I am an artist, not a warrior as she is." 

"A warrior… that's a good way to describe her," Fish said, quirking an eyebrow. 

Henry sighed. "I am not looking forward to her re-instruction." 

Fish remembered his field training and winced. "Christ, I can imagine." 

Henry walked over to Fish, pressing himself into him. "Would you like to have a nice hot shower, love?" 

"I don't think we have time for anything more," Fish said, shivering. 

Henry glanced up at the clock and then frowned. "I didn't realise you had been gone so long." 

"I stopped by the hotel and talked to Tom," Fish said, carefully. He took a step back from Henry. "I thought the three of us could go out tomorrow for dinner before Tom leaves… for your birthday." 

Tom had been right. Henry stiffened. The playful mood vanished and was replaced with complete anxiety. There was a tight set to his jaw and tension in his shoulders. He turned away and began examining the edge of his sword. 

"My birthday is quite a ways off," Henry said flatly. 

"Tom said you didn't like to celebrate it," Fish said, gently. 

"I do not," Henry admitted. Fish winced a bit at the slight snap in his lover's voice. Henry heaved out a sigh. He put his sword down again and turned. He gripped the counter edge behind him. His face took on its usual pensive look and Fish waited for the explanation he knew was coming. Nearly five minutes had passed before Henry spoke.

"I know this is difficult to explain. You cannot understand my perspective and I do not say that to be condescending or patronising. Many mortals see immortality as a blessing or gift," Henry said, softly. He held up his hand to stop Fish from interrupting him. "I do not count you among them. When we become immortal, each of us deals with our immortality in our own way. The things of which our immortality robs us must be mourned, like any loss and each of us forms our own coping mechanisms. Your experience with my kind is limited to Mao-Lin, a woman of great age who has reached a deep acceptance regarding our immortality. I do not claim that my relative youth is the reason that I see it so differently than she but I have long thought of my longevity as something unnatural. A being that cannot die is the true sin against nature." 

Henry pushed off of the counter and crossed over to Fish. He reached out and gently took Fish's hand in his own. "My birthday is a reminder of all those unnatural years and a reminder of all the years that will stretch out before me. I have tried to do as Mao-Lin does, to accept this cross I bear but it has never been easy. I try to focus on the positive things my longevity has brought me - you… Tom… but to always expect the worst, is to never be surprised nor disappointed. I am often wary of happiness and rejoicing. To never allow oneself full happiness is to never have it snatched away. I know it is a poor rationale but it is the only one I can offer." 

"I love you, Henry. I might not understand it completely but I understand it enough. If you want me to ignore your birthday, I will." Fish put his other hand over Henry's, drawing small circles on the back of his hand with his thumb. He smiled and let out a sad laugh. "But you'll be missing out on a pretty fantastic gift." 

Henry smiled weakly, squeezing Fish's hand. "Dinner with you and Tom would be fine and I will gladly accept your gift." 

"Cake?" Fish asked, hopeful. 

"No singing," Henry warned. 

"No singing," Fish assured him, kissing his hand. "I'll be right back."  

Fish got up and headed into the bedroom. He unzipped his case and took out the wrapped gift. With the perfectly wrapped box in hand, he walked back into the kitchen.  

"I was going to give this to you tomorrow…" he said. Fish stared down at the wrapping paper. He was so nervous. He had no idea how Henry would react to this gift. He'd taken an awful risk.  

"Then give it to me tomorrow, love," Henry said. He was oiling the blade of his sword.  

"Well, Tom's going to be there…" Fish trailed off not sure how to continue. He was already blushing. He'd planned on giving the gift to Henry at dinner but embarrassment was forcing his hand. He didn't want to give it to Henry in front of an audience. 

"You've purchased me something inappropriate for my son's eyes?" Henry asked. He looked up from his chore and was giving Fish that bemused expression. 

"It's not something like that! It's… well… just open the bloody thing," Fish said, blushing. He dropped the box onto the kitchen counter. 

Henry raised an eyebrow. He rested the blade on the counter and sat down at one of the bar stools. Fish watched every move Henry made, nervous. Henry reached out and pulled the box towards him. He politely examined the paper and read the label. Henry carefully undid each piece of tape and then folded the paper, whole. He took the lid off the black cardboard box to reveal the velvet box inside. He opened the lid and gasped. It was a ring with a swirling pattern on the outside. Henry took the ring from the box and held it up to the light to get a better look. 

"The design on the outside is my fingerprint. It's laser etched into the titanium," Fish said, tapping the ring. 

"Joe…" Henry whispered. His eyes filled with tears as he looked up at his lover. Before he could say yes…

"It's not a proposal, Henry," Fish said quickly. "I just wanted you to have something that was me." 

Henry slipped the ring onto his left ring finger. Proposal or not, it belonged no where else. "I would have said yes, Joe." 

"I know you would've," Fish said. He didn't miss the disappointment in Henry's voice. "When I decided to get you a ring, I did think about it."

"And you decided against it," Henry said, his voice a little hurt. 

"It isn't about you or about us. I love you and I do want to spend the rest of my life with you, Henry," Fish said firmly. He sighed. "With Olivia, yeah, I loved her but getting married felt like the next logical step. Not that that's the reason it all went tits up but I don't want it to feel like that with you. Things are moving faster with us than I can take but if you're already going ten kilometers over the speed limit then what's a few more, yeah? If I asked you now, that's what it'd feel like. It's going to feel like I'm asking because it's the next step and since we're already moving so fast what's the harm in going a little faster? It feels automatic. I don't want that, Henry. Not for us. Do you like it?" 

"I love it," Henry said. He got up and kissed Fish's cheek. "Thank you." 

"Happy Birthday, Henry," Fish said. He kissed Henry back. "When _is_ your birthday anyway? Wikipedia's date was a guess." 

"The eighteenth of June," Henry said as he got up. "The date on Wikipedia is wrong." 

He held both of his hands out in front of him and then took the gold and ruby ring off of his right hand. Fish watched and reached out to stop him. One night during one of their long phone conversations, Fish had inquired about the gold and ruby ring that Henry always wore. Henry had told Fish, in a quiet and sad voice, the story of how he'd met and fallen in love with Matthew Carroll, the son of a wealthy plantation owner in colonial America. Fish had listened to the story of their forty years together, sadness in his own heart. He'd insisted that Henry continue to wear Matthew's ring. 

"Hey, you don't have to do that, Henry." 

"They don't go well together, Joe. I appreciate your respect of Matthew's place in my heart but you must understand that that place is more than this symbol," Henry said. He cupped Fish's face and said, "Just as yours is." 

Fish swallowed, trying to stamp back the image of Henry putting the ring he'd just given him into a velvet lined coffin one day. He gave Henry a sad smile, then nodded. 

"Shower?" Fish asked. 

"You go first, love," he said with a grin. "If I join you, I will likely not be able to restrain myself." 

Fish smiled and headed for the bedroom just as his mobile began to blare. Henry reached it first. 

"It's Mao-Lin, Joe."

"Oh for fuck's sake. I'm dying for the loo," Fish said, walking back towards him. 

"I'm sure it's nothing, Joe. Go on into the shower. If it is something that requires you, I'll come get you," Henry said as he tapped the mobile. 

"You have no idea how much I love you right now," Fish said as he walked back towards the hallway. 

When he got into the bedroom, he took off his running clothes, wrinkling his nose as the damp smell of dried sweat hit him. _You gave Henry that ring smelling like an old sock… Classy, Fischer…_ After relieving his very full bladder, he got into the shower and turned on the spray. Just as he reached for the soap, there was a knock on the door. _Oh no…_

"Joe?" 

"Come in, Henry," Fish said. He felt the dread rising up in him and a lump forming in his throat. He opened the shower door and stepped out, toweling off his hands so he could accept his mobile but Henry didn't have it. He stood there dripping wet with his hand held out. "What did Evie want? Is something wrong back in Cardiff?" _Do I have to go back?_  

Henry shook his head. "No, nothing like that, Joe." 

"Oh thank Christ," Fish said with relief. He hung the towel back up and stepped back into the still running shower. "You scared me for a second there, Henry. I thought I was going to have to fly back to Cardiff!" 

"Mao-Lin was merely ringing to see if you were all right." 

"What? Why?" Fish asked over the shower's spray. 

Henry sat down on the toilet. "She said that Director Donovan rang her and Captain Harkness this morning to personally apologise. She and Jack were quite confused as she'd heard nothing was amiss but Director Donovan explained the… incident." 

"There was no incident, Henry. Nothing happened," Fish snapped. 

"Director Donovan disagrees. He informed Mao-Lin that you were gay bashed right in front of him by one of his own men," Henry said, crossing his legs and arms. "She said that Director Donovan was most ashamed at his agent's behaviour and that he hopes the incident will not reflect negatively upon his organisation." 

 _Some fucking homophobe is the least of what's 'negatively reflecting upon his organisation'…_ Fish sighed and opened the shower door to glare at his lover. "It was just some fucking twat, Henry." 

"The Director said something along the same vein, Joe. In fact, the young agent has been removed from his duties," Henry said, quirking an eyebrow at Fish. "Are you all right, Joe? You didn't mention this to me when you returned from Seattle."  

Fish shut the shower door a little harder than necessary. "That's because there was nothing to mention." 

"Again, the Director disagrees. He said that you handled the situation most… assertively. The young man has a bruised larynx." 

"What do you want me to say, Henry? That I'm sorry I pushed that bloke into a desk to make a point? These people might be under my command some day. They need to respect me." 

"You mean they need to respect your masculinity so you behaved like a brute?" Henry countered, his tone condescending. It flared Fish's anger. 

"You know, I expected this kind of shite from Jack but not from you," Fish snapped. 

Henry stood up and opened the shower door, poking his head in. "That barb is unnecessary, Joe. My only concern is for your welfare." 

"Get the fuck out of my sexual identity crisis, Henry," Fish snapped, not turning around. 

Henry slammed the shower door at him and stormed out of the washroom, slamming that door behind him as well. Fish jumped a bit at the volume. As he finished his shower, his anger dissipated and he realised how in the wrong he'd been. Henry had unknowingly touched a bit of a nerve and Fish had taken his anger out on him. _Bugger…_  

Taking his anger and frustration out on those around him was his greatest failing. It was something he'd tried desperately to change over the years but made little progress. His friends at university had first pointed it out after Fish had been constantly sniping at them during the stress of exams and deadlines. It had been a constant complaint of Olivia's and the source of nearly all of their disagreements. Fish had constantly had to apologise to her as well. _Forty years old and I'm still making the same fucking mistakes…_ He dried off and then wrapped the towel around his waist. He went in search of his lover to apologise… again. He needed to try harder. He stepped into the hallway and heard the shower in guest room's en suite running. Fish stepped into the room and knocked at the washroom door. 

"Henry?" 

"It isn't locked, Joe," Henry replied. 

Fish stepped into the room and sat down on the toilet, just as Henry had done. "I'm sorry, Henry." 

"I know you are, love. And you're already forgiven." Henry turned the shower off and stepped out. Fish handed him a towel. "Do you want to talk about what happened?" 

Fish watched as Henry dried himself off. He felt a bit badly. Henry was always so forgiving, patient and understanding. _Christ, what did I ever do to deserve someone him…_ He nodded and got up and walked back into the other washroom and Henry followed. The two of them stood in front of the dual sinks so they could get ready for their evening out. Fish actually felt more comfortable discussing things this way, especially this subject.  

"Torchwood has a certain reputation with other alien agencies and governments. Agencies like MiB tend to think we're a bit full of ourselves… and I wasn't helping," Fish said. He ran his hand over his face, trying to decide whether or not to shave. "Watching that drill just pissed me off. Any of those agents would be dead inside of a week if they worked for Torchwood. I handed their arses to them and one of the agents called me a faggot." 

Henry winced around his toothbrush. He spat into the sink and turned to his lover, "Joe-"

"I'll get to the slur in a minute, Henry," Fish interrupted. He decided against shaving and reached for the tub of Henry's hair gel. He liked it better than his own. "Do you remember what you told me about how you felt after you found out there were aliens?" 

Henry nodded. "I felt a deep connection to humanity - a oneness and a profound sense of unity." 

"When you work in an alien agency, that's the attitude you need to have. It isn't about ethnicity or sexual identity or gender anymore. It's about the human race. It's about humanity and how you feel about other humans directly relates to how you feel about aliens. Did I ever tell you about Max Evans?" 

"No," Henry said. He dragged the hair gel tub back towards him. "Was he a colleague of yours?"

"Of sorts," Fish said with a smile. He tried to get his hair to lay properly, this time parting it on the side the way Henry preferred. "Max was an alien. He died last year. He was from a planet called Nepanth. He crashed on Earth in the seventies and there was no way for us to get him home so he had to make do here. He collected mugs and disposable pens. He thought that keeping fish captive was a sin. He liked to play chess and he attended an Episcopal church." 

Henry smiled at the story. "It sounds like he was a fascinating individual." 

"See, you called him an individual, like he was a person, just like the rest of us," Fish said, gesturing with his own toothbrush and then rinsing his mouth. 

"That's because he was, Joe," Henry insisted, not understanding where Fish was taking this. 

Fish wondered if Henry realised that what he'd just said made Fish love him all the more. The two of them went into the bedroom to get dressed. 

"Do you think an MiB agent that calls me a faggot is going to think that Max was a person? No, he isn't. He's going to think that someone like Max, an alien, is less than the rest of us," Fish said as he put on the pinstriped suit.  "And that's why it made me mad. There are half a dozen resident aliens living within the borders of the United States of America. If that's how an MiB agent treats someone who could potentially turn into his boss, how are they treating them?" 

"You were angry on behalf of those poor souls whom the rift and circumstance have stranded here," Henry said, selecting a suit of dark grey. 

"That was only part of it. Mostly I was angry this snot nosed MiB piece of shite was calling me a faggot," Fish said with a sigh. He draped his shirt, tie and jacket over the bed while he put on his pants and trousers. Henry did the same. 

"I understand the slur is demeaning, Joe," Henry said, gently.  

"That's not really it, Henry. I don't know how to explain… Christ, now I know why you sit and think for so long before you try to explain something," Fish said as he buttoned his shirt. He stopped fiddling with the buttons and sighed. "This is so fucking complicated… I don't even know where to begin." 

"Perhaps at the beginning, love," Henry said gently. 

 _At the beginning…_ Fish decided to take a leaf out of Henry's book. He finished getting dressed, taking the few minutes to think before he began. Henry waited patiently and then accepted the tie from Fish's hands. He flipped Fish's collar up as he began to speak. 

"It happened about a month after I started working for Torchwood. It was late. It'd been a long fucking day. I was just finishing up and then I was going to go home. Ianto sat down next to my workstation with Jack… and they invited me to bed with them." 

Henry's eyebrows shot up in surprise, he stopped knotting the tie. With leveled patience, Henry said, "You failed to mention this to me." 

"It's sweet that you're jealous but I turned them down, Henry. I told them, flat out, I was a straight man and wasn't interested. Most awkward fucking moment of my life… I couldn't look either of them in the eye for days," Fish said with a laugh and Henry resumed tying Fish's tie. "If you ask Ianto whether or not he's gay, he'll say no. You'll get the same answer out of Jack. Jack told me that people slap labels on things because they think it makes it easier but all it does is limit how we look at the world. And he's right. I didn't figure out how right until I met you. The man I was when I turned them down? That man wouldn't have had that drink with you. He would've walked away from the best thing that's ever happened to him and wouldn't have given it a second thought… all because he called himself a straight man."

Fish looked down at the knot. He had no idea what Henry was doing but it didn't look like he was tying a windsor. "It isn't just Olivia. I've always been rubbish with women. After that 'invitation', I started thinking maybe I was playing for the wrong team."

"Joe…" Henry started but Fish interrupted him.

"I get that's not really the way it works, Henry. Anyway, I watched Jack and Ianto - saw how in love they were… and, instead, I started wondered if I was missing out on something. The idea kicked around my head for a few years. I even went to this gay nightclub one Saturday night." 

Henry's face betrayed his surprise… and amusement at the idea. 

"Again, nothing came of it. Ianto and I were talking about him and Jack not ten minutes before you sat down next to me. But by then, years had gone by, and I wasn't thinking I was missing out on something anymore. I was wondering if I'd passed something up because I was being narrow minded. Had I missed out on something special because I was labeling myself? I decided it was time to keep an open mind." 

"And when I sat down that was just what you did," Henry said, a touch of wonder in his voice. He couldn't help but marvel at the timing as he continued to fiddle with the knot of Fish's tie. Fish's conversation with Ianto… the rude man in the elevator? It was as if fate had thrust the two of them together. 

"It wasn't just about keeping an open mind, Henry. I really did fancy you. But it was everything I'd been through with Torchwood that helped me see that," Fish said with a smile. He stilled Henry's hands, bringing them to his mouth to kiss them. "When we started all this, it was hard for me." 

"I remember," Henry said, cupping Fish's face in his hands. "I questioned myself… whether or not it was right of me to cause you such distress… whether or not I was being selfish." 

"You turned my world upside down, and I'm so glad you did," Fish said. He looked into Henry's eyes. The love he saw there made a crooked smile break out over his face as he blushed. "I don't have a problem being with you. I've already made peace with that. I've come to terms with loving another man. And I know that doesn't sound very good, like I'm talking about having a terminal illness or something but it's the best way I can think to word it. The way the rest of the world reacts to us? I'm still working that out. You remember that woman at the aeroport?"

"What woman?" Henry asked, resuming his work on Fish's tie. 

"The rude one. The one who was clicking her tongue at us?" 

"The one you confronted?"

"Yeah, her. She made me so fucking angry. What had I ever done to her? What had we done?" Fish shook his head. "I missed you so much and I was so fucking happy to see you… I'd waited months to be able to finally hold you…" 

"And she was spoiling it," Henry finished for him, as he straightened the knot and tightened the tie. 

Fish nodded again. "It's not just about the insults and the stares. I'm happier with you than I've ever been and I know I shouldn't let it but the prejudice? It spoils it for me a bit. You said to ignore her and I did. I've tried this whole holiday but I've noticed the stares. You've had to deal with worse and I know I'm being daft…"

"You're not, Joe," Henry said, gently. He leaned back a bit, eyeing his work. He pinched the knot between his fingers. Fish watched him fiddle with the knot a few more times as he spoke. "Yes, I've had to deal with worse and for longer but that doesn't make it any easier. What I said was true. Just because we won't be executed or jailed doesn't make the overt prejudice easier to tolerate. In fact, I think it makes it worse. Seeing the bigotry along side such open acceptance is harder, I think. It was simpler and easier when our relationships were kept private. Living openly, we've traded one set of complications for another. As I've said to you before, Joe, I'm used to hiding who I am. Living openly is not easy for me. We walk down the street holding hands and when I see people staring, I still feel fear… fear that we'll be reported and jailed… fear that I'll see you tortured and executed… I know that's not the way things are now but those are my instincts. It is a hard habit to break." 

"It's so much easier like this. Just you and me…" Fish said softly. Henry kissed him gently. Fish smiled and let out a contented sigh as Henry flipped his collar down. "Bloody finally! I thought one of these took me a long time!" 

Fish turned around and gasped. Henry had certain outdone himself! The knot was intricate and looked almost as if it was woven or braided. He had no idea how Henry had done it. 

"Wow!"

"I'm pleased you like it, Joe," Henry said with a smile as he began tying his own tie. 

"How'd you do it?" Fish asked as he continued to examine the knot. 

"I could teach it to you, Joe," Henry said, flipping down his own collar. 

"Bloody hell, I have trouble with a windsor, Henry. I could never manage this," Fish said and the doorbell rang. 

"That will be Tom," Henry said and then left the room to answer it. 

"Bugger…" Fish said under his breath. He called out, "Henry? Do you have any cufflinks I can borrow?" 

"The box on the dresser, Joe," Henry called back. 

 _Which box…_ Fish thought with a slight eye roll and started opening all of them. The first box had more than a dozen watches that Fish quirked his eyebrow at. Why a man needed more than one watch was beyond him. The second box was a basic jewelry box. Fish saw Matthew's ring along with a few others as well as some bracelets. There were also a few necklaces, a number of tie pins… but no cufflinks. He didn't find those until he opened the third box. Both his eyebrows shot up. There were dozens of options for him to chose from and a number of them looked like antiques. He'd had no idea there'd be such a selection… and he had absolutely no idea which pair went with what he was wearing. 

"Did you find them, Joe?" Henry asked, stepping into the room with Tom on his heels. Tom was wearing a plain black suit and tie. His shirt was deep pink. 

"G'day, mate," Tom said, cheerfully. He wasn't imitating Fish's accent really, but mimicking Crocodile Dundee. 

"Oi, like I've never heard that one," Fish said with an annoyed eye roll. He turned to his lover. "How many bloody cufflinks do you own, Henry? Just pick a pair for me." 

"That's my Pops, Mr. GQ himself," Tom said with a laugh and Henry glared at him. 

"Do you need a pair, Thomas?" Henry asked, a little annoyed at his son's teasing. 

"Nah, I'm a simple guy, Pop," Tom said, brandishing his buttoned cuff at his father. 

Henry shook his head. He bent down and selected a pair. Fish held up his cuff and Henry fastened the cufflinks, smiling fondly at him. Fish returned the loving look. 

"Awww," Tom said and then made a retching noise that earned another glare from his father. 

"Go heat up our supper, Thomas," Henry said with an eye roll. "There is a chicken pie in the fridge." 

"You two stay decent," Tom laughed as he left the room. "We have to be at the gallery in an hour!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tie knot featured in this chapter is called [ an Eldredge Knot](http://www.bestylish.org/blog/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/eldredge-knot.jpg). I have tried tying it myself and it is quite a piece of work to get done but it is so stunning that it's worth the trouble. On a personal note, Fish's tie tying obsession comes from my own life. My husband is incapable of tying a tie properly on his own and I always have to do it for him. I was raised in a very traditional Italian household. My father taught me how to tie a proper half windsor knot when I was a little girl and always told me that one day it would be important because men appreciate a woman who can tie a tie for them. Sometimes I would stand on a step stool and tie my father's tie for him before he went to work. Yes, he usually had to redo it himself later but it became a sort of romanticized image for me and I felt the need to insert it somewhere.


	15. Chapter 15

The gallery was a blur of faces and introductions. Fish could barely keep them all together in his head. Some were Henry's friends, others were patrons of his work, others were acquaintances or people who worked for the gallery and of course many were complete strangers. Most of them were also people that Fish had nothing in common with. Fish felt… well, like a fish out of water. He'd tried to hang about Henry and Tom as much as he could but Henry had obligations and, much to Fish's amusement, Tom appeared to be trying to pull. 

One thing that surprised him were the number of reporters. There were photographers from art magazines and newspapers. There were journalists and bloggers. Fish had no idea that Henry's work was so well known. Although the biggest clue probably should have been that his sister, a secondary school art teacher on another bloody continent halfway around the world, had heard of his boyfriend's work. She'd rang Fish squealing with delight when Henry had sent her a small painting for her birthday. 

When they'd arrived and seen the gaggle of reporters, Henry had muttered something about having to change identities soon. It seemed that fame was not a friend to an immortal of the Game. Henry and Fish were standing side by side as a blogger interviewed them. Polite and charming as ever, Henry answered the questions. Fish couldn't believe these reporters and bloggers were just as interested in talking to him as they were to Henry. It seems their whirlwind romance was the stuff of art world gossip. Fish had no patience for it. He wasn't ashamed of his relationship with Henry but their private life was just that - private. Some of their questions were more than simply curious, they were bordering on intrusively rude. Fish had wanted to throttle one of the bloggers when he'd inquired about their sex life. Henry had been far more diplomatic, moving on to the next person in line. 

"Have you started work on your next show, Mr. Blount?" the frizzy haired blogger asked, voice recorder in hand. 

"Not as of yet," Henry said with a smile. "Right now, I'm preparing to relocate my studio to Cardiff. Joe works for a technologies consulting firm in Wales." 

"You're moving across the Atlantic for your partner? How romantic!" she exclaimed. She turned to Fish and asked, "How did you two meet, Doctor Fischer?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Lyons. I'm afraid I need to cut this a bit short," Henry interrupted. He could feel Fish's blood pressure rising beside him. Questions about their relationship inevitably became more personal than he or Fish were willing to answer. "There are a number of other interviews I need to conduct this evening." 

"Of course," the bubbly woman said. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Blount, Doctor Fischer."

Henry gave the woman a polite smile and said, "You're most welcome, Miss Lyons." 

No sooner had they escaped that blogger than another one appeared, asking Henry a flurry of questions and trying to pry about Fish's life and work. Henry once again intervened and sent Fish off under the guise of putting away his scarf. Fish admired Henry's quick thinking and poise in deflecting questions away from him, his work and their private life. Aliens he could deal with… but this? He snagged a glass of champagne off of a passing tray and stood alone for a few minutes trying to decompress. He was about to go look for Tom when he heard, "I love the blue." 

_I know that bloody voice…_

He turned around and saw Jeff Weston, an old mate of his from university. Aside from the salt pepper hair, he looked exactly the same. Fish couldn't believe it. What were the odds? A gigantic smile broke out over his face. 

"Jeff!?" Fish cried. 

Jeff whirled at the sound of the voice and a broad smile broke out over his face. 

"Holy fuck, Joe!" he shouted, grabbing Fish's hand. 

"Oi, c'mere you bastard," Fish said as he pulled Jeff in for a hug. The two men's boisterous reunion drew a few stares. "It's been… for fuck's sake… twenty years?" 

"Probably longer. We've turned into old farts," Jeff said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. He dragged his wife forward. "Joe, this is my wife, Valerie." 

Fish wasn't surprised when he saw Jeff's wife. She was just Jeff's type, blonde and gorgeous. She was also heavily pregnant. She gave Fish a broad smile and shook his hand. 

"Pleased to meet you. Oh, I'm sorry, excuse me," she said. She moved off when she saw someone she knew who was waving at her excitedly. 

"Congratulations, mate," Fish said, clapping his friend on the back. 

"Thanks, never thought I'd see the day I'd be someone's father," Jeff said with a shake of his head. "So what the fuck are you doing here, Joe?" 

"I could ask you the same question," Fish said. "What are you doing these days? Programming still?" 

"No, I switched things up a few years after I left school. I'm an intellectual property lawyer," he said with a shake of his head. 

Fish coughed into his drink. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. Jeff's family had been lawyers going back for generations and it had been the absolute last thing Jeff had wanted to do. "You're taking the piss! Jeff, you said it would be a cold day in hell before you joined the bar!"

Jeff rolled his eyes. "Dude, tell me about it. Must be in the fucking genes or something. The firm I work for up here does a lot of business in the States. Valerie works at the Vancouver Art Gallery in painting preservation and restoration. Never thought I'd see you around this artsy fartsy stuff."

Fish sipped at his drink and looked around for Henry. He'd love to introduce him. "I could say the same about you. Your wife dragged you here didn't she?"

"Yeah, well, the shit we do for love, eh?"

Fish gave a crooked smile. "Yeah…" 

Jeff smiled and gestured at the painting on the wall. It was one of Henry's. "Valerie loves this guy's work. I bought her one of his paintings for our tenth wedding anniversary - it's why we get invited to these things. Cost me a fucking fortune but it was worth it to see the smile on her face." 

Smiling broadly himself, Fish was about to tell Jeff he could introduce Henry to his wife when Jeff said, "So you didn't tell me what the fuck you're doing in Canada. Are you living here now? Last I heard you were over in England." 

"I'm down in Wales now actually," Fish said. 

"You always were more bold when it came to relocation. Look at me, man? I was born in Boston. I grew up in Boston. I went to fucking college in Boston. I still can't believe I moved to another coast let alone another fucking country! There are better places for a vacation spot if that's why you're here," Jeff said with a shrug.

Fish craned his neck again and saw Henry talking to Jeff's wife. Looks like he wouldn't get the pleasure of introducing them after all. "See that bloke your wife's chatting up?" 

"What? I should be jealous? That man's batting for the other team," Jeff said with an eye roll. He fanned himself with his hand. "I can feel the flames from here." 

Fish's eyes narrowed and he gave his old friend an angry look. "Oi!"

"Shit, take it easy, man," his friend said. He was completely taken aback by his old friend's anger. "It was just a joke." 

"A joke directed at my boyfriend," Fish said, hotly. 

Jeff's eyes went wide and was his turn to choke on his drink. "Fuck, Joe, are you're shitting me?" 

"No, I'm not," Fish said, angrily. "His name is Henry Blount." 

"Really, Joe. I'm sorry. I didn't know," Jeff said, honestly. "Wait a minute, that's the guy who painted this." 

"Yeah, it is," Fish said, a little more harshly than he'd intended. He'd only been sixteen when he'd gone off to university and it had been impossibly difficult to make friends. Most of the other students had seen him as a kid and beneath them. Jeff had been one of his closest friends, one of the few people who'd been able to look past his age and see him for who he was. Fish would be genuinely upset if Jeff, of all people, couldn't accept him and Henry. 

Jeff put his hand on Fish's arm. "Joe, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I was just fucking surprised. You know it doesn't matter to me, man. I saw that dumb shit eating grin you had on your face a minute ago and I'm glad you've found someone who makes you that fucking happy," Jeff said. A wide grin spread across his face as he tapped Fish's tie knot. "I should've known you were seeing someone. No fucking way Joe Fischer ties a tie like that on his own." 

Relieved, Fish smiled at his old friend. He cuffed him lightly on the shoulder. "Thanks, Jeff." 

"So that's why you're here? You visiting?" Jeff said, sipping at his drink. "Val got her job and it was what she'd always wanted so here I am. She moved up here first and we were doing the long distance thing for a few months. It was rough."

"Henry's moving to Cardiff next month," Fish said. 

"No shit," Jeff said. "Are you two getting married?" 

"It's a civil partnership over in the UK," Fish said. 

"Dude, lawyer," Jeff said with an eye roll. "Who gives a shit what they call it?" 

"Henry and I haven't been together all that long," Fish said with a shrug. 

"Now there's the Joe Fischer I know. You are the ultimate turtle, man. Slow and steady wins the race," he said with a chuckle. He gave his friend a smug look. "I married Valerie a year after we met."

"You know how I am, Jeff. I've been with Henry a couple of months. He's moving to Wales and we're getting a place together. You can't hear that sound? It's my relationship's sonic boom," Fish said with a laugh. 

"Hey, don't let anyone make you feel bad about it - that loud mouth sister of yours or… I forget her name, sorry," Jeff said. 

"Anna," Fish said with a laugh. 

"Yeah that was it. Anna. Don't let her make you feel bad for it and especially don't make yourself feel bad for it," Jeff said, seriously. "When you know, you know."

"I think I'm already moving as fast as I can handle," Fish said with a laugh. 

"What was that shit you were always saying? 'In for a penny in for a pound'? I know this is practically light speed for you but sometimes life is too fucking short. You need to relax a little, Joe. You always were so fucking uptight. I remember I set you up with that sorority chick. Only dude I know who turned her down. Guess I know why now!" Jeff said with a laugh. "You should've said something, man. It wouldn't have mattered to me back then either." 

"I turned her down because I didn't want to catch anything, Jeff," Fish said, sarcastically. He dropped his voice a bit and could feel the heat on his cheeks, "And, actually, Henry's the first bloke." 

"No shit? Well, I feel better now. Thought for a minute there all those chicks I'd set you up with had made you feel bad or uncomfortable or something," Jeff said with another laugh. "You so needed to get laid back then. You were working too hard." 

"He still does… work too hard, I mean," Henry said from over Fish's shoulder with a smile. 

Fish's face brightened at Henry's appearance. Jeff smothered a grin at the dopey look that came over his old friend's face. 

"Henry, this is an old mate of mine from uni, Jeff." 

Henry was standing a respectable distance away from Fish, unsure of how Fish wanted to present their relationship to his old friend. Fish was having none of it. He dragged Henry close, putting his arm around his waist. 

"Jeff, this is my boyfriend, Henry," Fish said with a smile. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Henry held his hand out to Jeff who shook it firmly. "I believe I've already made the acquaintance of your wife, a delightful woman." 

"Good to meet you too," Jeff smiled. "Val's a big fan of yours!"

"Thank you," he said. "So she's said. I am pleased she believes my work has merit. She mentioned that you own one of my pieces? The flamenco dancers? 

"Yup, hanging right in our living room," Jeff said with a broad smile. "We've been invited before but this is the first time we've been able to make one of your shows." 

"You're fortunate. This will be my last show in Canada," Henry said. He slid his arm around Fish's waist. "I'm moving back to the UK to be with Joe." 

"Yeah, he was saying," Jeff smiled and winked at the two of them. He thought they made an adorable couple. He may not have seen Fish in a long time but he could never remember seeing his friend so happy. He waved at the painting behind them. "I don't know shit from shinola when it comes to art, but I know something beautiful when I see it." 

"Ah, that explains your lovely wife," Henry said, with a smile. 

"Quite a charmer you landed yourself, Joe," Jeff said with a laugh. "Dude, how much longer are you going to be here? I'd love to catch up the right way. We could knock back a few. It'd be like old times!" 

"I'm only here until Wednesday and we're going out for Henry's birthday tomorrow," Fish said. He felt a bit torn. He wanted to spend as much time with Henry as he possibly could but he hadn't seen Jeff in years. 

"I'm certain I can survive without you for one night, love," Henry said, snaking his arm around Fish and giving him a reassuring squeeze. 

"You're welcome to tag along, Henry," Jeff said. He cuffed Fish playfully on the arm. "There are some roaring stories I could tell you about this one." 

Fish immediately blushed and then groaned. "Oh please, mate, don't…" 

Henry laughed loudly and kissed Fish on the cheek. "I'll spare you the humiliation, love." 

Jeff laughed and dug into his wallet. He handed Fish one of his cards and said, "Hey, I don't want to cut in on you guys' time together. If you get time, Joe, it's cool. If not? Here. My cell phone number's there and that's my e-mail. We need to stay in touch all right? Not like what happened after grad school. I meant what I said before about life being too fucking short, man. We used to be thick as thieves." 

"I don't doubt it," Henry said with a laugh and then the gallery representative caught Henry's eye. He sighed. "Excuse me, please. It was a pleasure meeting you, Jeff."

"You too, Henry," Jeff said with a smile. 

Henry kiss Fish on the cheek and brushed his thumb against his jaw. A loving look passed between the two of them and then Henry wandered off. The dopey look spread across Fish's face as he watched Henry walk away and Jeff smiled. 

He leaned his head close to Fish's and with a chuckle said, "You are so getting laid tonight, man." 

Fish immediately turned bright red. 

Jeff clapped both his hands onto Fish's shoulders and gave him a friendly shake. "Dude? You're still blushing at the fucking drop of a hat? You're like forty fucking years old now! I understood it when we were kids but now?" 

Fish frowned at his friend. "Oi, leave off! I can't help it." 

"I really have missed you, man," Jeff said with a laugh. The two of them wandered off to the side, finding a quiet corner. They continued to chat about old times, reminiscing and laughing. Fish was finally starting to feel comfortable. He craned his neck for a minute to see where Henry was. He saw him standing off talking to Trudy Davenport, the gallery representative. Fish also saw Tom standing not far from him, chatting up a pretty young woman. When he went to turn his attention back to Jeff, that was when Fish caught sight of Aaron Reynolds. The man was difficult to miss, towering over almost everyone in the room. He was dressed to kill in a finely tailored suit. Fish wondered how he'd managed to get inside. The show was by invitation only and there was no way that Henry would have invited him. Aaron had a determined look on his face - a look that told Fish the man was up to no good.

"Joe? Something wrong?" Jeff asked. 

"Yeah…" he said, craning his neck. He followed Aaron's progress through the crowd. That asshole was headed straight for Henry. 

"Someone you know?" 

Fish rolled his eyes, not taking them off Aaron. "An ex of Henry's… fucking prat." 

Jeff raised his eyebrows. "Wow, jealous much?" 

"I'm not being jealous, Jeff… he really is a prat," Fish said. His eyes narrowed. Aaron was standing behind Henry with his hands on his shoulders and Henry was just standing there. Henry probably didn't want to make a scene. He was about to go rescue his lover when from behind him… 

"Excuse me, are you Doctor Joseph Fischer?" 

Fish turned to see a lovely young woman and the first thought that entered his mind was, _Woah…_ He had no idea who she was but she was drop dead gorgeous. She was barely in her twenties, dressed in a tight fitting dress. She had deep auburn hair and some of the most killer legs Fish had ever seen. 

"Yes, I'm sorry do I know you? Miss…?" Fish asked, a bit suspicious.  

"Miren, Corinne Miren," she said brightly, holding out her hand. 

Fish shook it. He was still incredibly suspicious. Jeff was looking at this woman strangely as well. 

"I can't believe it's you!" she said brightly. 

Jeff and Fish both looked at each other. 

"I'm here with my sister," she said, waving at another woman standing in the corner who waved back. "I did my dissertation based on your semiconductor work!" 

The two of them immediately launched into an in depth discussion about advanced chemistry and Jeff smiled. He put his hand on Fish's shoulder and laughed. "I'm going to go find Valerie, Joe. I don't understand one fucking word of what either of you is saying. Listen, find me before you leave okay?" 

"I will, mate," Fish said with a smile and then launched back into his discussion. 

"I still can't believe I'm talking to you!" Corinne said, shaking her head. She reached into her pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes. She jerked her head towards the door. "Do you mind coming with?" 

"Sure," Fish said. He despised cigarette smoke but he was reluctant to leave his conversation. It had been a long time since he'd been able to have a discussion about chemistry on this level with someone else. In fact, he was finding he'd really missed it. He followed her outside not noticing that Henry was watching him leave as Aaron Reynolds was whispering in his ear. 

She lit the cigarette the moment they were outside, politely shifting away from the gallery door. She offered him the pack which he refused. 

"Nasty habit I know," she said, taking a long drag. 

"Let me guess, you started up to relieve your stress," Fish laughed. 

"You know how in school they tell you that all it takes is one? Well, all it took was one," she said with a laugh. She wrapped her hands around her arms and shivered. "Bit nippy out here at night." 

Ever the gentleman, Fish took off his suit jacket and draped it across her shoulders. He said, "There you go. You said you went to CalTech?"

She nodded and their discussion turned from chemistry to retelling amusing laboratory accidents and pranks. She squashed the cigarette under her shoe and then popped a piece of gum into her mouth. 

"Listen… I… I don't normally do this…" she said, seductively as she put her arms around Fish's waist. "What do you say we get out of here, eh? My place isn't far…" 

Fish smiled and put his hands on her arms, trying to extract himself from her embrace. "Look, Corinne you seem like-" 

She only held on tighter. She batted her eyelashes at him and interrupted, "Is this where you tell me you're not interested?" 

"I'm not," he said, flatly. He leaned away from her attempt to kiss him and pulled a little harder at her arms. He decided to play the gay card. "My boyfriend's inside." 

She pressed her hips into his, rubbing against him. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him…" 

"All right, let go of me," he said, loudly. "I'm serious." 

Just then the gallery door opened and out stepped Henry and Aaron, arguing in hushed voices. Henry turned and fell silent the moment he caught sight of Fish with Corinne's arms around him. Aaron leaned close to Henry, speaking in his ear but Henry pushed him off. 

"Henry, this isn't what it looks like," Fish said as he continued to try to remove Corinne's arms from around him. "Oi! I said let go!" 

"Straight guys never change, Henry, and the switch hitters are always heart breakers," Aaron said loudly. "If it isn't her, who will it be next?" 

Fish gaped at Corinne and then back to Aaron. This was some sort of elaborate setup. It had to be. _That miserable bastard!_ Fish had had enough. 

"Look, I'm sorry," Fish said and then roughly shoved Corinne. The hard push was enough that she finally let go of him. She stumbled backwards but Fish grabbed her arm to steady her. Once she had her balance, he took back his suit jacket. He barked at her, "Now, piss off!" 

He turned to Henry to see Aaron draping his arm over Henry's shoulders. His head leaned in close to Henry's ear and Aaron said, "C'mon, Henry. We were good together…" 

Fish grabbed Aaron's wrist, yanking his hand from Henry's shoulder. Channelling Miranda, with a slow, even voice, he coldly said, "I don't know what the fuck is going on here, Reynolds, but if you touch my boyfriend again, he will be the last thing that hand ever touches. " 

Aaron took a step back from Henry. For a minute, Fish thought he might actually flee. His eyes went wide with fear and he said, quickly, "She was just a joke…" 

"A joke? You trying to make Henry think I was about to cheat on him with some co-ed is your idea of a fucking joke?" Fish yelled. His voice had raised so loudly that some of the people standing by the gallery window turned to stare. That crowd of staring people grew larger as Fish shoved Aaron so hard the tall man almost stumbled. "Stand down, Reynolds. Fucking news flash for you. Henry is _mine_." 

Henry tugged on Fish's sleeve and Fish glared at him. Henry's voice took on a commanding tone. It was one that Henry had used before to Fish's great annoyance and now it only inflamed his anger. He looked at the crowd staring at them and then back at Fish. 

"We need to find a quiet corner. _Now_ , Joe." 

"Fine," Fish snapped. Tight lipped and not the least bit embarrassed for once in his life, the two of them made their way through the crowd. Everyone was very busy trying to not watch them but Fish could feel their eyes and he didn't care. The sound of all conversation in the gallery had stopped but slowly rose again as the two of them made their way to the gallery office. It was louder than it had been before the scuffle by the time Henry and Fish reached the office. Henry opened the door and then ushered Fish into the room. He locked the door behind them. 

Fish sighed, he ran his fingers through his hair, bracing himself for whatever angry speech Henry had for him. He was in the wrong and he knew it. He'd lost his temper and made a scene. Every single reporter and blogger had witnessed him jealously shoving Aaron Reynolds. He could only imagine how that would all look online later. No doubt there was video or pictures whizzing their way up onto the Internet at this very moment. He'd embarrassed Henry and acted like a juvenile and a brute - two things he knew Henry despised. "I'm sorry, Henry. That woman… That bloke's a fucking twat and-" 

Fish didn't get to complete his sentence. Henry had grabbed him by the arm and flung him into the door. Fish's back and head hit the wood with a dull thud and he nearly lost his balance. He was too startled to speak as he watched Henry sink to his knees and attack his belt buckle and trousers. 

"Henry, what-" 

"Shut up, Joe," was his snarled reply as he yanked Fish's trousers and briefs down around his knees. _Well at least he's not angry…_ was the last coherent thought that ran through Fish's mind.  

Without another word Henry sucked Fish's soft cock into his mouth. Fish felt his eyes slide shut as Henry worked him to full hardness in seconds. He brought his hand down, twining it in Henry's hair as his breath hitched in his throat. He brought his other hand around, clamping it over his mouth to muffle his screams. Not another coherent thought could form in Joseph Fischer's brain as Henry's mouth moved on him with heavenly skill. Faster than he'd ever thought possible, Fish grunted and came, biting into his bottom lip to stifle his scream. His head slammed backwards into the door as his back arched. His other hand flew down, fisting itself in the hair on the back of Henry's head. Without thinking, he yanked with both fists, pulling Henry by the hair to force his mouth further onto his spurting cock and Henry's nose smashed into his belly. 

When he could hold his breath no longer, Henry yanked himself from Fish's grasp. Gasping and coughing, he fell backwards, landing on the floor. There was a dribble of come running down his chin that he quickly swept into his mouth with his finger. Fish, completely spent, slid down the door, panting and shaking. Henry sat up on his elbows, a wicked smile on his face as he adjusted his own straining cock into a more comfortable position in his clothing. 

"Not that I'm complaining, Henry… but what the fuck was that?" Fish asked, panting.

Smiling, Henry turned and crawled on all fours towards him, slowly. The sight made Fish's breath hitch in his throat and his eyes darken. Henry's head dipped, as he took Fish's still sensitive cock into his mouth, sucking and licking it again. 

"Holy fucking shit, Henry…" Fish said. His head hit the door again as his toes curled.  

"Your possessiveness was most erotic, Joe," Henry said as he ran the tip of his tongue along Fish's soft cock. "The aggression… the raw masculinity…" 

Despite the fact that he'd come less than a minute ago, Fish felt his cock twitch at the roughness in Henry's voice. He grabbed Henry's shoulders and dragged the man up for a deep kiss. He felt another surge of possessiveness. He trailed his lips across Henry's jaw. Henry shivered and then let out a deep moan asFish's lips trailed down his neck. Henry tilted his head to give Fish better access. Fish's lips ghosted down to his pulse point. The spot was high above Henry's collar, where all could see. Fish opened his mouth, sealed his lips against Henry's neck and sucked as hard as he could and Henry moaned loudly - probably too loudly. He licked his tongue over the fresh bruise and Henry let out another moan. 

"I love you," Henry whispered. 

"I love you too," Fish replied. He slid his hand along Henry's clothes, pressing his palm into the erection straining against Henry's trousers. "Want some help with this?"

"Later," Henry said. 

"Later?" Fish repeated, disappointed. He rubbed his hand harder over Henry's crotch. 

Henry crawled back a bit, dipping his head to let his lips barely ghost against Fish's soft cock. He could feel Henry's breath, hot as he spoke, his lips tickling the sensitive skin and Fish's eyes slid shut. Henry's voice was low and husky. "Think of the anticipation, Joe… tonight, I will be imagining over and over how it will feel when we get home and you bend me over our bed to take me… possess me… and when you come inside of me you will claim me. Every time you look at me, remember that." 

Fish shivered with desire at the thought. His own orgasm had been mere minutes ago but Fish's cock was attempting to reawaken. _Christ… Jack could learn something from this man…_ "Fuck, Henry…" 

"I hope that is your plan later," Henry chuckled, his breath still hot against Fish's mostly soft cock. He slid Fish's cock into his mouth, sucking once before releasing it again. "I can't get enough of you…" 

"I can't get enough of you either," Fish said, swallowing on a dry throat. He wanted nothing more than to take Henry home, back their bed. Now. "Christ, I want you so fucking bad and I just came two minutes ago." 

Henry wrapped his lips around the head of Fish's cock, swirling his tongue and Fish let out a gasp and then a frustrated groan as Henry let it slip from his mouth. 

"You taste fantastic…" Henry said, laving his tongue down the shaft.  

Fish felt another surge of desire and his dick twitched. He watched, almost amazed as it was lengthening and hardening. He hadn't recovered so quickly from an orgasm since he was a teenager. _Sod this…_ With a slight snarl, he pushed Henry onto his back, settling himself between his legs. 

"I want you. _Now_ ," Fish growled, his fingers working Henry's belt buckle. He didn't care he was in someone's office. He didn't care there were dozens of people on the other side of the office's door. All he saw was Henry. All he wanted was Henry.

"Patience," Henry said, playfully batting Fish's hands away. 

"Fuck patience," Fish snarled, unbuttoning Henry's trousers. He hooked his hand into the waistband and started to pull. 

"Wouldn't you rather me than patience?" Henry said, the bemused look on his face that Fish loved so much. 

"That's the current plan," Fish said. 

Henry submitted and pulled Fish down for a deep kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck. He reached into his back pocket and handed Fish a small packet of lube. Fish didn't even bothering wondering at why Henry had this with him. He didn't care. All he wanted was Henry. He ripped the packet open with his teeth and squeezed some out onto his fingers. Impatient, he slid two of his fingers past Henry's entrance and looked into his lover's eyes for permission. When Henry nodded, Fish pressed those two fingers forward and Henry's breath hitched in his throat. He gasped as Fish quickly found his prostate, pressing his fingers into it now with skill. He continued to prepare Henry thoroughly but his lover began to grow impatient. 

"Enough," Henry snapped as he grabbed Fish's hand, pulling it away. 

"I need to prepare you more, Henry," Fish insisted but Henry shook his head. 

"No. You don't. Don't hold back, Joe," Henry said. 

Fish felt another surge of desire and emptied the rest of the packet onto his now throbbing cock. 

Henry grabbed Fish's chin and turned him to look in his eyes. "Don't. Hold. Back." 

Summoning courage, Fish lined himself up. He plunged into Henry with one sharp thrust and Henry let out a barely restrained cry of pain and pleasure. 

"Yes!" he gasped, his fingers digging into Fish's arse hard enough to leave marks. "Don't stop!"

Fish set forth a punishing rhythm, pounding into Henry as hard and fast as he could. Henry's hand drifted down to his own straining cock but Fish slapped it away with a possessive snarl and curled his fingers around it. He continued to slam himself into Henry. The only sounds in the room were the slap of flesh and the low animalistic like grunts from both men. It was primal, the two of them madly humping mostly dressed.  

It wasn't long before Henry threw his head back, his hands clawing at the carpet for purchase. His back arched as he came, Fish still pounding into him. Henry's cock erupted and the immortal man yanked his shirt up just in time before the come could stain it. Fish continued his brutal pace until finally he stiffened. His whole body went rigid as he came with a grunt. Panting with sweat trickling down his brow, Fish collapsed, rolling off of Henry. 

"Christ I haven't done that since I was a teenager," Fish said, catching his breath. 

"Had sex in a public?" Henry asked. 

"No, come twice in a half hour," Fish said with a laugh. "I've never had sex in public." 

Henry gave Fish that bemused look again, glancing down at their half dressed state and then the room. 

"Okay well, now I've done. I don't know if this counts as public," Fish said with an eye roll. He winced as he looked down at the red patches of rug burn on his knees. He started to right his clothing and check for mess. "Are you okay?" 

He stood up and started to fix his clothes. He handed Henry a box of tissues he found on the desk.

"I'm fine, Joe," Henry said. He wiped himself off and then started to fix his own clothing. 

Fish felt like a teenager. He'd never done something so impulsively lust driven. He pulled Henry into his arms. "Christ, what you do to me, Henry…"

A small knock at the door brought both their heads up. Fish immediately blushed. The knock repeated. 

"Everything okay in there?" It was Tom. 

"Just a moment, Thomas," Henry called out, a little angry. 

Fish made sure they were both decent and that all evidence of their romp was gone before opening the door. Tom was standing next to Jeff. Jeff was desperately trying to smother his grin while Tom looked positively scandalised. Fish's face began to burn. 

"Wow… the chutzpah on you two," Tom said. He shook his head, backing away from the doorway and the smell of sex wafting out of the room. 

Jeff put his hand on Fish's shoulder and laughed. "What I said earlier, dude? I thought you'd at least wait until you got home." 

Fish closed his eyes as he felt his face get hotter. 

"Don't worry, I think we're the only people who know," Jeff said, jerking his head towards the crowd. It had largely thinned out. "I think you really traumatised Henry's brother though." 

Trying to stamp back his embarrassment with formalities, Fish said, "Tom, this is a friend of mine from uni, Jeff Weston. Jeff, this is Tom Blount, he's…" 

"We did the introductions already, Joe," Tom said swiftly. He rolled his eyes. He looked faintly sick when he said, "Now that you're done corrupting my kid brother and scarring me for life, how about we blow this popsicle stand?" 

"That's probably a bad choice of words, Tom," Jeff said with a laugh. 

Fish's face turned even redder.


	16. Chapter 16

They lingered for a little while at the reception, hoping to deflate some of the excitement about Fish's scuffle with Aaron and their 'row' in the office. Fish was relieved that most of the reporters and bloggers seemed to be perceiving what had happened in the office as a domestic. After saying goodbye to Jeff and his wife, the three men left the reception. Fish felt badly that he probably wouldn't be able to see Jeff again before he left the city, but the two men made a vow to keep in touch this time. They dropped Tom off at the hotel, who had only shaken his head at his father and Fish before practically fleeing the car. Their next stop was the apartment. 

Henry dropped his keys on the kitchen counter and scrubbed at his face. After slipping off his suit jacket, he sat down on the sofa and started unlacing his shoes. He slipped them off and dropped them onto the rug next to the sofa. He looked so tired. It was the first time Fish had ever seen him slouch. Fish walked over to Henry and put a hand on his shoulder. 

"I'll make you a cup of tea," Fish said. 

"That sounds delightful, love, thank you," Henry said. He turned his head to kiss Fish's hand. 

Fish went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. He heard Henry heave out a deep sigh. 

"There were twice as many reporters as the last show. Those infernal web bloggers are the worst," Henry lamented. "This is getting out of hand." 

"You mentioned that earlier," Fish said as he portioned out the tea leaves into Henry's small teapot. "I guess this much publicity isn't really good for you." 

"No and it is nearly impossible to get the gallery to see that because under normal circumstances this much publicity is a very good thing," Henry said. He leaned back against the sofa and put his feet up on the coffee table. 

"Probably thought that bit of a scene I made was fantastic," Fish said with a sigh. 

"Precisely," Henry said with an eye roll.

"I am sorry about that by the way," Fish said, wincing a bit. 

"I think you more than made it up to me, love," Henry said with a grin and Fish blushed.

Fish didn't want to know but the question was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Henry… you don't think I'd really-" 

"Of course not, Joe," Henry said, emphatically. "Aaron has been attempting to work his way back into my life on and off for quite some time but I had no idea he would stoop so low as to arrange that performance tonight." 

Henry had already told him a bit of what had happened between him and Aaron but Fish thought there was more to this story than Henry had let on given what had happened tonight. "What really happened there, Henry?" 

His lover sighed. "To be honest, I am unsure, Joe. Peters, Klein and Webster had handled my legal affairs since I came to Canada as an emancipated youth." 

 _Emancipated youth?_ "How old were you telling people you were?" Fish asked. The kettle beeped and Fish poured the hot water over the leaves and set a timer. 

"Fourteen," Henry said as he started unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling them up.  

"Fourteen?!" Fish exclaimed. "And now I feel like a paedophile." 

Henry smiled and let out a small laugh. "I am capable of impersonating a wide variety of ages. Fourteen is the youngest I can manage. Forty appears to be the oldest. The younger I tell people I am, the longer I can remain in one place. Sometimes it is worth enduring secondary school. I've been in Vancouver for eighteen years now. Aaron and I met, in passing, one day at the law office."

"And you started seeing each other," Fish finished for him. The timer began to beep. He strained Henry's tea and carried the mug into him, setting it down on the coffee table. 

"I would hardly call what went on between us 'seeing each other'," Henry said, a bit irritated. 

"Honey?" Fish asked, turning back towards the kitchen. 

"And milk, please. Thank you, Joe," Henry said, blowing on the tea. "As I said, I do not usually blur the lines between my professional and private matters. After a few nights, I discovered my attraction to Aaron did not extend beyond the physical. In retrospect, I believe Aaron continued to visit my bed in the hopes that I would have a change of heart. Perhaps I was remiss in allowing our sexual relationship to continue for as long as I did."

Before Fish could stop himself, he asked, "How long was that?" 

He set the milk down in front of Henry along with the honey and a spoon. He sat down next to his lover, sipping the beer he'd retrieved for himself. 

"Nearly six months." Henry winced, hoping that Fish didn't pry further. The reason that Henry had continued to sleep with Aaron was his creative and athletic nature in the bedroom, certainly something he would not elaborate on to his current lover. He was relieved when Fish didn't ask anything more. "I finally came to my senses and put a stop to the affair nearly a year and a half ago but Aaron continued his advances for nearly six months afterwards. At first, it was small things. He would ring almost daily as well as send the occasional gift which I would always return. I became more and more blunt in my refusals. When I switched law firms, Aaron's advances stopped. That insanity at the gallery is the first thing he's tried in a year and the most outlandish." 

"I'm sure the bloggers will have a field day with it," Fish said, wincing a bit. 

"A certain amount of notoriety is fine but with digital media and the Internet, my immortality is easier to spot and the more well known my work, the longer I need to wait between careers," Henry said. He went about fixing his tea. 

"So that no one recognises you," Fish said, seeing the reasoning.   

"Precisely," Henry said. He removing his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. "It draws attention to what I am not just from mortals but from the others as well. We don't just change aliases to protect our immortality. There are a great many immortals who travel the world head hunting, looking for any evidence of our kind. I'm quite surprised that no one has stumbled upon your Captain Harkness yet. I won't be able to continue this ruse much longer. One of the reasons my relocation to Cardiff has been so smooth is because I was already in the process of shedding this alias. Trudy Davenport remarked that she was pleased I'd stopped dyeing my hair." 

Fish found that a bit funny. Henry had begun dyeing his hair grey to appear older. 

"But you can't do that now because of me. I'm sorry, Henry."

"There is nothing to apologise for, love," Henry said, rubbing at his eyes. "I'll just need to stop making public appearances, which also means I will have to stop selling my work"

"The gallery doesn't know you're going to stop working do they?" Fish asked.  

"No, they don't. Likely I will have to make up the existence of some sort of illness. I have used mental breakdown in the past to great effect," Henry said. He leaned back, cradling the mug in his hands. 

"Mental breakdown?" Fish asked. It seemed an odd choice. 

Henry nodded. "Many people associate mental instability with artists. Because of the stigma associated with mental illness today and in the past, feigning some sort of mental breakdown has usually been an excellent way for me to live undisturbed. Before all this globalisation, I was able to simply move to another town or country and begin painting again. Now, I will likely have to wait at least a hundred years to ensure my work is not recognised." 

"I've always wanted to know, Henry, why do you sell your paintings? You obviously don't need the money," Fish said, waving around the apartment.  

"It's not just about the money. When you did research, did you lock your findings away or did you share them with the world? My paintings and drawings give me a great deal of personal fulfillment but art is meant to be seen and enjoyed, not created and locked away." 

Fish nodded in understanding. He toed off his own shoes.

"You must be exhausted," Fish said. "We should get you into bed. Is Tom coming for breakfast tomorrow?"

He planted his hands on his knees and pushed himself up. "I told him I would call him in the morning with our plans." 

The two of them got ready for bed, too tired for anything more than sleep. Henry let out a contented sigh as he slipped under the sheets. Fish went into the lounge and grabbed his laptop and then slid into bed with him. He opened it and saw the decryption program had finished running. Fish opened the files MiB had sent him. He scrubbed at his face and then sent an e-mail to Donovan to let him know that he'd received and decrypted the files. He also let him know that he'd sent a copy on to Torchwood. 

"Are you working, love?" Henry chastised, leaning over his lover's shoulder. 

"Just giving the documents Donovan sent me a quick peek. I mostly wanted to see the salary and benefit package," Fish said. He'd thought Henry would want to go straight to sleep, he quirked an eyebrow at his lover's book. Concerned, he asked, "Am I keeping you up? Is the light bothering you?"

"Not at all. I believe I need to relax a bit more," Henry said, rubbing at his eyes and settling into his book. "I'll likely read for a short while." 

Fish nodded and returned his attention to his laptop. Not wanting to take up too much time, he opened the file with the job details. He scanned it… twice. This salary had to be a mistake. "Do you know the conversion from dollars to sterling, Henry?" 

"No, check Google," Henry said, not looking up from his book.  

Fish did a quick web search and his eyes went a bit wide. Under his breath, he said, "Woah." 

"What's wrong, Joe? Is MiB not offering you enough?" Henry asked. 

Fish shook his head. "My salary would more than double." 

Henry raised his eyebrows. "That's quite the pay rise." 

That was an understatement. It would be earning more money than he'd ever done in his entire life - more money than he thought he would ever earn. Fish wasn't really someone to find money alluring but he couldn't help but find the salary a little tempting. He wondered if that was Donovan's intention. He continued to read the file. 

"I have to live in Washington DC or the surrounding area…" Fish trailed off as he started to do a series of web searches. "Washington and Maryland recognise same sex marriage but not Virginia."

"I thought we weren't getting married, love," Henry said, looking up from his book. 

"The benefits say we don't have to be married for them to extend to you. I was just curious about where we'd have to live if they did. Not that you'd need the health benefits…" Fish said with a smile, "and we're not getting married _yet_." 

Henry smiled and shifted in the bed so he was closer to Fish. His leg was already pressed against Fish's but he lifted it, draping it over Fish's. He twisted the ring around his finger, admiring the swirling pattern. He'd spent most of his life unable to openly love let alone marry the men in his life. Whether they wore rings or spoke words and vows to each other was irrelevant to Henry. He loved him with his body, heart and soul. Henry would gladly stay with Fish as long as he would have him - hopefully the rest of his life. In Henry's heart, Fish was already his husband. 

"This is a lot of money," Fish pointed out. "The areas around Washington DC are supposed to be nice. We could get a small house." 

"I think you're getting ahead of yourself, love," Henry reminded him. He was trying not to get his own hopes up. "You haven't decided if you're taking this job or not."

"I know. I like to look at all the options. I miss having a garden," Fish said with a shrug. He'd always loved growing things - vegetables, flowers, herbs. His house in Manchester had had a lovely vegetable patch. Whatever Olivia didn't cook, he'd always bring into work and give away. He smiled at the image of Henry picking herbs and vegetables from the garden to use in his cooking.

"We could get a house in Cardiff," Henry pointed out. 

Fish shook his head. "Not close enough to the bay and not for less than a small fortune." 

"I have plenty of money, Joe," Henry insisted, letting his book drop down into the blanket. 

"And it's going to be _our_ home, Henry. If you think I'm not paying my share you're out of your mind," Fish objected. 

"I was looking at a few properties within walking distance of the Hub." Henry took Fish's laptop from him and in a few minutes he'd located the appropriate website. He brought up the listing he'd seen and handed the laptop back to Fish. 

"Henry, this place is over half a million pounds!" Fish exclaimed. 

"It's in Cardiff Bay and only a five minute walk to the Hub, Joe. It has three bedrooms and it's new," Henry said. He reached over Fish's shoulder, clicking a few times. "This one is in Cardiff Bay as well, it's not as expensive." 

"Three eighty…" Fish shook his head. His Torchwood salary was good but it still wasn't that good. "You think we need three bedrooms? That's a lot of space for just the two of us." 

"I need a great deal of open space for my sword practice," Henry pointed out. 

"Maybe we should lease?" 

"I would prefer to buy, Joe. It isn't about the investment. Our home is something I will never sell," Henry said, softly.

Fish looked around the bedroom. "You're not selling this place when you move are you?" 

"No. We've made memories here," he said with a wistful shake of his head. The nostalgic look on Henry's face tugged at Fish's heart. Henry could no more part with this apartment than the ring on his finger. 

"We can look at some of these when you get to Cardiff." Fish nodded at Henry's screen and then took the laptop back. "It won't be fifty, fifty but I'll chip in where I can." 

"I expected more of an argument from you, Joe," Henry said, surprised. 

"They're nice flats," Fish said and then added. "If you're keeping it, I want you to have something you can be comfortable in." 

Henry didn't want to burden Fish with the truth, that likely he would never set foot in this apartment nor whatever flat or house they ended up purchasing in Cardiff ever again after Fish was gone. The memories would be too overwhelming for him, the grief and sadness too much to bear. In fact, Henry wondered if he'd ever be able to visit Cardiff or Vancouver again without pain. 

When Matthew had died, he'd willed everything to Henry. In fact, most of Henry's money was what he'd built from that inheritance. When he'd met Matthew he'd been a poor man, struggling to make ends meet painting portraits. He hadn't wanted to disrespect Matthew's wishes so he'd tried to live in the house they had shared, but it had been too much for him. He saw Matthew around every corner. He'd been unable to tolerate their bed alone. His husband's ghost had hung heavy in the lonely hallways and empty rooms. In the end, Henry had fled to Europe with Miranda. After he had left, he had never returned. He still owned the plantation but paid for the Virginian historical society to maintain the house and grounds. He hadn't been to there in nearly two hundred years. 

Henry closed his book and set it on his bedside table. He rolled, draping his leg over Fish's. He leaned, kissing Fish's cheek gently as he put his arm around his lover's chest. 

"Good night, Joe," he said softly, settling against him. 

Fish shut his laptop, plunging the room into darkness. He set it down on the floor next to the bed and gathered Henry back into his arms. He kissed the top of Henry's head, breathing deep of the smell of his shampoo. 

"Night, Henry," he said, softly. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of Henry's hair against his lips and fingers. 

Henry fell asleep almost immediately. Fish laid there listening to him breathe feeling a bit sad. His mortality hung over their relationship like a black cloud, darkening everything. He wondered if Henry would ever stop despairing about it. It seemed to pop up at every corner, clouding and tainting every single moment they shared. They couldn't even speak about their new living arrangements without grief passing through Henry's eyes. He didn't want things to go on like this but Fish had no idea what to do to make it stop. 

He brought his hand up, tracing his fingers along Henry's, feeling the ring on his lover's finger and found himself second guessing his decisions. Should he have asked Henry to marry him? Henry did seem to jump to the conclusion that Fish was going to leave him often. Would making a more formal commitment solve that worry? Fish went through all of his careful reasons and finally admitted to himself that, in all honesty, most of his reservations about marrying Henry were irrational. They loved each other. Fish wanted to spend his whole life with Henry by his side. Isn't that precisely why people _got_ married? 

A small lightbulb went on over his head. He was in a relationship with another bloke. Why did he have to be the one doing the asking? Then again, that wasn't exactly the standard if he was in a relationship with a woman these days either. He pictured Henry on bended knee in front of him and smiled. He'd figure out a way to toss that ball firmly into his lover's half of the court. He shifted his position slightly, closed his eyes and followed Henry into sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

The next morning Fish opened his eyes and immediately shut them again against the light. He rolled and reached out, his hand encountering only cool sheets. He cracked one eye open. He was alone. It was the first time that had happened since his arrival. He was reminded of his first night in Cardiff after Henry had returned to Canada. _Christ, what am I going to do when I leave…_ he thought and a pain lanced through his chest. He swallowed back the sadness. He wasn't leaving for another few days and he shouldn't get into Henry's habit of allowing melancholy about the future to cloud the present. 

"Henry?" he called out, sitting up in bed. 

Fish swung his legs out of the bed and got up. The en suite's door was open and it was empty. Fish slipped on his tracksuit bottoms and walked into the hallway. He heard the sounds of someone puttering in the kitchen. Smiling, he turned the corner and saw Henry preparing breakfast. 

"There you are," Fish said as he slid his arms around Henry's waist. He buried his face in Henry's shoulder. "How long have you been up?" 

"A bit," Henry said. He turned his face and kiss Fish on the cheek. He gestured at the tray. "I was bringing you breakfast in bed." 

Fish smiled. He picked up a strawberry, popping it into his mouth. "That's sweet of you, Henry. I hate to spoil it but I'm not really the breakfast in bed sort. There's something odd about eating naked." 

"And I was so looking forward to feeding you these strawberries…" Henry smiled, turning. He put his arms around Fish's neck. 

"Is Tom stopping by this morning?" Fish asked, reaching around his lover for another strawberry. 

"I haven't spoken with him yet," Henry said, kissing a small drip of juice from Fish's lips. "I believe he requires some distance after last night." 

Fish immediately blushed scarlet. "I should probably apologise to him. He was mortified." 

"Nonsense, Joe," Henry said, mischief in his eyes. "Causing one's children embarrassment is one of the great joys of being a parent." 

Fish laughed at that. He clearly remembered how much joy his own parents found in the same activity. 

"Well, we are seeing him tonight for dinner," Fish said. He didn't miss the small flinch. The mood that had been building between them began to wane. He decided to back pedal. "If you don't want to go out, Henry-"

"Nonsense. Dinner with you and Tom would be lovely." Henry let go of Fish's neck and turned away. "If you don't mind, Joe, I've reconsidered my decision to attend mass this morning. You needn't join me. I shan't be long." 

"No, Henry, I don't mind at all," Fish said, stepping back from his lover. The mood had completely vanished. He could tell Henry needed some distance. "I'll be here when you get back."

After finishing off the fruit, Henry dressed in one of his suits. He kissed Fish goodbye and drove to church. He sat off in the back pew, scarcely paying attention to the service. He avoided several of his friends, keeping to himself. Afterwards, he remained in the church, sitting, staring up at the altar. The priest, concerned, had walked over but Henry had waved him away. 

He hadn't meant to practically flee nor be rude but he'd wanted to be alone, to find calm and comfort in God. As this impromptu birthday celebration drew closer, Henry found himself increasingly inundated with memories… mostly of Matthew. 

He rose up from the pew and headed to the small alcove. Matthew's face filled his mind's eye. After slipping a few bills into the box, he bowed his head and lit a candle. _The light of my life…_ He sank to his knees and closed his eyes, remembering the sound of Matthew's voice, his laugh, the smell of his skin. They hadn't been able to love each other openly as he and Fish could, but it hadn't mattered to either of them. They had loved each other deeply and Henry would forever think of Matthew as his first husband. 

On a sweltering summer day in 1784, Henry had first met Matthew Carroll. Unlike his love for Fish, Henry's love for Matthew had blossomed slowly, though Henry had found out later that Matthew's love for him had been nearly instantaneous. He could still remember that first glimpse of Matthew, heavily leaning on his cane, limping towards him.  _An old war injury,_ he'd said, dismissively.

During that first meeting Henry discovered Matthew wanted nothing to do with this portrait-a permanent reminder of the horrors of the battlefield. Taking pity on the young man, Henry agreed to delay the portrait as long as possible. He spent far longer than usual on his initial sketches. He and Matthew would spend entire sittings simply talking over tea and biscuits. It was in those quiet sittings where Henry's love for Matthew had grown. 

Henry knew nothing could come of his feelings. There had been a few longing looks between them, but Henry didn't delude himself. He was a poor man-a hired servant, nothing more. Matthew was the son of a wealthy landowner, the member of a prominent family. He was arranged to marry the town beauty, the daughter of another prominent family. Henry had no place in Matthew's life. 

In the end, it had been the death of Matthew's father that had brought them together. John Carroll had been buried less than a day when Matthew had appeared on Henry's doorstep professing his undying love, begging Henry to move into the house with him-to share his life. 

 _All I want is you… I love you, Henry…_ he heard Matthew's voice in his head.

Henry had his own room, of course, for the sake of appearances, but he never slept in it. There had been rumors and whispers even though Matthew continued to randomly court young women. Matthew received polite invitations he was expected to politely refuse. Henry had felt badly for making his husband a social pariah, but Matthew hadn't cared. Their days were quiet and simple. The humid nights they filled with each other. 

The memories of those nights-the feel of Matthew's skin and touch-gripped Henry's heart like a vice. A lump formed in Henry's throat and he tried to swallow his grief. The memories swirling through his mind took a grievous turn and Henry shut his eyes tighter against the tears.

He'd gone into the library to ask Matthew something, only to find his husband crumpled on the floor, a smashed cup of tea by his side. Matthew's beautiful blue eyes had stared at nothing and Henry had feared the worst. The maelstrom of images ran through his mind - him wiping the drool from Matthew's sagging mouth, him coaxing and begging Matthew to eat, the cold stiff feel of Matthew's hand in his when he'd woken and discovered his lover had died while he had slept. He vividly remembered Miranda's hand on his shoulder, leading him away from Matthew's grave while he had wept, clutching an old glove in his hand - a token of Matthew's love. Henry still had the glove, of course, but Matthew's scent had long faded from the cloth.

Truthfully, Henry had thought he would never love again. Matthew's death had devastated him and he'd never quite been the same. There'd been a few fanciful flings and athletic dalliances but nothing more - that was, until Joseph Fischer had walked into his life. He wiggled the fingers of his left hand, twisting the ring Fish had given him. _'I cannot bear the thought of you spending the long years ahead alone… Find someone who will make you happy again,'_ Matthew had said to him one night. Henry had felt a bit guilty at first, as if he was betraying Matthew. He knew, deep down, that Matthew would be pleased he was no longer alone but ever since Henry had welcomed Fish into his life, memories of Matthew had assaulted him and this birthday celebration was not helping. 

Every birthday since Matthew's death, all Henry could remember was how Matthew had no more birthdays of his own. On the day he had buried Matthew, all Henry had wanted was to slumber beside him beneath the earth. He had wanted to die himself. _He doesn't belong in the ground… He's a bright sun… the light of my life…_ he had sobbed. He felt he had no right to celebrate his own life, when the light of his own had been extinguished. The pain that lanced through his chest when he thought of Matthew was still profound. 

Fish simply didn't understand. He'd wanted to tell Fish to forget the whole thing but he'd seen the pleading look in his lover's eyes. Henry could tell that Fish had put a great deal of thought and planning into this little celebration. He hadn't wanted to hurt Fish's feelings nor disappoint him so he'd agreed. Tonight, Henry would put on a brave face for his lover but he would ask Fish that this be the last celebration. 


	18. Chapter 18

Henry had been gone at church far longer than Fish had expected but he'd mentioned to Fish that he usually went to brunch with his friends afterwards. Fish assumed that was what Henry had done. When his lover had returned, they'd had a quiet lunch together and then, professing fatigue, Henry had shut himself away in their bedroom while Fish had gone out for a run. 

While Fish ran, he began to reconsider the birthday celebration. He hadn't expected Henry to become so distraught. He turned things over and over again in his head and finally decided to go forward. Perhaps, if the celebration went well, it would begin to change Henry's mind about it. 

By the time Fish got back to the apartment and had cleaned up, it was time for them to pick Tom up at the hotel. Fish's hopes rose through dinner as the three of them talked and laughed. Henry's mood seemed much improved and he was clearly enjoying himself. They left the restaurant in good spirits, heading back to the apartment. 

"I'll be out in a minute, I'm just going to freshen up," Henry said, brightly as they walked through the door. He kissed Fish on the cheek and headed down the hallway to the washroom. 

Fish took the cake out of the fridge and started unpacking it with a smile. Tom was opening the cupboards for plates. He turned at the sound of a plastic package. Fish was planting a candle in the middle of the cake. 

"You sure that's a good idea, Joe?" he whispered. He looked nervously over his shoulder at the hallway. Henry was still in the washroom. "I think we're already pushing our luck here." 

"We're not singing," Fish said. 

Tom blew the candle out quickly and then plucked it from the icing. He started covering the hole up with his finger. "I'm serious, Joe. You're pushing it. This is the closest thing to a birthday celebration Pop's had in over twenty years." 

While Tom and Henry disagreed over the candle, Henry was in the en suite, splashing water on his face. He'd managed to genuinely enjoy their dinner. Nothing about it had drawn attention to his birthday and Henry had been at ease. As they had driven back to the apartment for the cake, Henry had felt a rising dread. Memories of the past had once again flooding his mind - some pleasant and some not. Again, they were mostly of Matthew. 

He knew he didn't have long before Tom and Fish wondered where he was. He dried his hands and his face and went into the bedroom but instead of returning to the lounge, he opened his jewelry box, picking up the gold and ruby ring. He clutched the ring in his fist, close to his heart. 

He remembered the day Matthew had given it to him. It had been a birthday present, the very first birthday present Matthew had ever given him. Matthew had been terrified that Henry would think he was treating him like a woman by presenting him with a ring. Henry had thought no such thing. He pulled his sketchbook towards him and flipped it open to the correct page, a sad smile playing on his lips. He ran his fingers along the sketch of Matthew's face. He stood there flipping through the pages, looking at the drawings he'd done of Matthew throughout his life. He paused at one he'd done on Matthew's last birthday, tracing his fingers around the aging face that love and laughter had lined. _My dearest, I miss you so much…_  

"Hey, Pop? Did you fall in or what?" Tom said as he walked into the room. He stopped in his tracks. "Oh, shit…" he muttered under his breath. He ask gently, "Pop? You okay?" 

When Henry didn't answer him, Tom walked to stand next to his father. He looked down at the sketchbook. He'd never been allowed near it when he was younger. "Matthew Carroll… 1823…"

Henry laid Matthew's ring carefully back into his jewelry box. He murmured, mostly to himself, "The light of my life…" 

"I told Joe this was a bad idea."

Tom turned to leave the room, to give Fish an ear full about what he was doing to his father but Henry grabbed his hand. 

"I'm fine, Tom."

"You don't look fine, Pop. You look like shit," Tom hissed. He stabbed his finger at the sketchbook. "The same fucking way you always look when you fucking go walking down memory lane. It's all this birthday bullshit that Joe's gotten in this head. Well, I'm putting a stop to this."

"Don't, Tom…" Henry said. He lowered his voice so that Fish wouldn't hear them. 

"This is eating you up and I won't fucking have it. I know how upset all this birthday shit makes you and…" Tom trailed off as Henry's face fell further and Tom knew exactly which memory was running through both their minds. An awkward silence fell between father and son. 

"I never said I was sorry to you," Henry said. 

"What the fuck you got to be sorry to me for, Pop?" 

"Thomas…" 

"It's in the past, Pop. I won't say it didn't hurt my feelings because, yeah, at the time it did. Shit happens. I'm a big boy now," Tom said, putting his arm on his father's shoulder. "You flew off the handle. You were pissed off and upset-" 

"And I took it out on you. There was no excuse," Henry said. 

"I've seen a lot of shit being a cop. One crack across the face from my old man isn't exactly what I'd call abuse," Tom insisted. 

He'd been sixteen. He'd gotten his first job, working the cash register at a local convenience store. It was the first time he'd had money of his own and he'd spent his whole pay cheque on a birthday celebration for his father. He'd bought everything, the gift, the wrapping paper, the decorations. He'd even ordered a cake. He'd skived off his last class at school and decorated the apartment. He'd done it all even though Henry had asked for the previous birthday celebration be the last. Tom hadn't been able to contain his excitement that he could finally buy his father something and do his birthday properly with his own money. 

Tom had been too young and too excited to see the growing despair in his father as his birthday approached. When Henry had come home from his studio, he'd yelled at Tom, furious at his son for ignoring his wishes. When Tom had gotten snarky with him, Henry had slapped him across the face. It had been the first and last time his father had ever raised a hand to him. He was downplaying it now but it was one of the worst memories of his childhood. 

"That doesn't mean I have ever forgiven myself for it, Tom," Henry said, softly. 

"Well, I forgave you a long fucking time ago - for a lot of things. I'm not a little kid anymore, I'm all grown up. I know you did your best," Tom said. He put his hand on Henry's shoulder. "You sure you're okay, Pop?" 

Henry cupped Tom's face in his hand. "I love you."

"I know you do. I love you too," Tom said. "You sure you want to go through with all this? You don't have to." 

"It's just eating cake," Henry said. 

"Good thing I made Joe get rid of that candle," Tom muttered. 

Henry raised his eyebrow at his son. "He didn't?"

"He tried," Tom said, with a bit of a laugh. He looked down at the sketchbook again. "You put him in here yet?" 

Henry nodded, flipping to the most recent pages. There was a full page sketch of Fish and Tom sitting next to each other, laughing. Tom watched a tear run down his father's cheek. He leaned over and shut the sketchbook. After wiping Henry's cheek, Tom put his arms around him, hugging him close. 

"You know you've got more than marks on a piece of paper right now, Pop," Tom said gently. "I'm here. Joe's here. Right now. And we're not planning on going anywhere just yet."

"You're right, my boy," Henry said, smiling weakly at his son.


	19. Chapter 19

The chocolate cake had been delicious and Henry had done his best to shake off his melancholy for the sake of the two people he loved most in the world but he'd been relieved when it was over. After the remnants of the cake were put away and goodbyes said, Henry drove Tom to the airport.

Henry's melancholy hadn't been lost on Fish. Dinner had been fine but the minute Tom and Henry had emerged from the bedroom, Fish had seen the high shine to Henry's eyes. Tom had also cast him a very angry look. Whenever Henry thought that Fish wasn't looking, there was more grief and sadness on his face that Fish had ever seen. It had upset Fish so much. The last thing he'd wanted to do was cause Henry pain. His lover had said nothing. He'd accepted the cake with a smile that never reached his eyes. He only taken a few bites. Fish couldn't believe how obtuse he'd been.

Once Henry and Tom had left for the aeroport, Fish had decided this would be the last celebration. There would be no more cakes or gifts. Next year, Fish planned to kiss his lover and tell him that he loved him, nothing more. As he'd watched Henry eat his cake, he'd tried to think of some way he could make everything right. He'd thrown away the cake, disposing of the bin liner in the rubbish chute so that Henry wouldn't see it. He sat down on the sofa and waited. He looked up when he heard the door to the apartment open. Henry stepped through the door, speaking as he locked it and tossed his keys onto the countertop.

"Tom's plane is leaving on time…" Henry trailed off as he saw the look on Fish's face. "Joe? Is something the matter?"

Fish walked over to his lover and took his hand. "Yes, there is. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done any of this. Next year, I promise, not a word about your birthday."

"Joe-"

"I know you're putting on a brave face for me and Tom, Henry," Fish said. He took Henry's hand. "I get that you're trying to spare my feelings but seeing you in this much pain is breaking my heart… especially knowing that I'm doing it to you. I will do absolutely anything if you'd just stop looking so sad."

 _Do not dwell on what will be, dearest. It only serves to tarnish what is…_ Matthew had said to him once. At first, it had made Matthew sad to see his lover so distraught over his impending death but over the years, that sadness had turned into anger. Henry's tendency to mourn Matthew while he was still alive became the source of most, if not all of their arguments. He'd be furious with him for causing Fish the same pain. _Two hundred years and I'm making the same mistakes…_ he admonished himself. He'd been doing this the entire holiday. Truthfully, since he first met him. He pulled Fish in for a deep kiss, his fingers easing themselves underneath his tie.

"No more sadness tonight," he whispered. His eyes sparkled. "As we are celebrating my birthday, I believe I'm entitled to a request."

Fish searched his lover's face and found the smile was genuine… and almost mischievous. "Whatever you want, Henry. Anything."

"I believe you expressed an interest in… broadening your horizons?" Henry said, playfully. He undid Fish's tie knot slowly and then slid the tie out from under his collar, the silk hissing softly.

His lover shivered in anticipation. "This is your night, Henry."

"Then that is my request… to fulfill yours," Henry said. He hooked the freshly removed tie around Fish’s neck, using it to pull him towards the bedroom. Fish’s grin turned devilish as he began unbuttoning his shirt.

Henry stopped him. “I've never peeled you out of a suit, love.”

Holding his hands up in surrender, he stopped and let Henry drag him along, his heart hammering in his chest. He thought he’d felt like a virgin again the first time he’d entered Henry but that was nothing compared to how he was feeling now. His palms were clammy and his fingers were beginning to grow cold with nerves. His stomach was flipping in his belly and his throat had gone dry. He hoped he wasn’t trembling but he felt like he was. As nervous as he was, he didn’t think he’d ever wanted anything more.

Henry stopped them in front of the bed, taking off his own tie and dropping it onto the floor. Again, he used both of his hands, seductively pulling Fish’s tie from his neck, dropping it next to his own. Fish had never felt so cared for. Henry took his time, carefully removing each piece of his clothing before he removed his own. He settled Fish onto the bed as if he were a fragile piece of crystal.

Feeling the tension in Fish’s shoulders, Henry gently massaged his muscles, coaxing them into relaxation. If it weren’t for the nerves, Fish would’ve fallen asleep. He felt the centre of the whole universe as Henry lavished attention on him with his hands and mouth. Every inch of Fish’s skin was electrified. Each puff of warm breath from Henry’s lips pebbled his flesh and made his back lift a little off the bed.

Henry barely allowed Fish to participate at all, except to respond. Normally a considerate lover, Fish was usually eager to give as well as receive, but this time he relished in the attention. By the time he opened his mouth to beg, he was so hard it was almost painful.

Observant as ever, Henry sat up between Fish's legs. He gently pushed them apart and said, “It’s easier the first time if you turn around. It will give you more control.”

“I want to see you.”

“Joe…”

“I need to see you,” he said, not willing to give up the intimacy of being face to face.

Henry nodded and then reached into the bedside drawer for their supplies, setting down the bottle of lube next to his leg.

"Do you trust me, Joe?" Henry asked.

"Completely…"

He didn’t think it was possible, but his heart began to beat faster as he watched Henry open the cap and squeeze the glistening lube onto his fingers. Again, his heart picked up its pace as he watched Henry’s hand move down between his legs.

“Breathe and relax, love,” Henry said, rubbing his leg.

Fish hadn’t even realised he was holding his breath and let it out slowly. When he felt Henry’s lubed fingers brush his skin, he jumped not at the contact but the jolt that shot up his spine he hadn’t expected.

“Are you sure about this, Joe?” Henry asked, concerned.

“Yes,” he said.

Carefully, Henry brushed his fingers over the sensitive skin again and Fish let out a low moan. His head dropped back and his eyes closed as Henry’s slim finger pushed forward. The unfamiliar intrusion caused fireworks behind his closed eyelids. The incoherent groan that escaped his mouth became louder the deeper Henry sank the finger into him.

Henry was gentle and slow. There was no pain or discomfort. It was a strange sensation at first and Fish was surprised he was enjoying it as much as he was. If he was honest with himself, he hadn’t expected to enjoy it at all and assumed that bottoming was an acquired taste. Instead, he was finding his nerves were burning away with pleasure crackled over his body when Henry added a second finger.

Those fingers within him bent ever so slightly and then slid sideways across his gland. Fish’s jaw dropped and he couldn’t help but let out an ear piercing scream as a lightning bolt slammed up his spine and then radiated out towards his fingers and toes. He'd seen Henry's responses to his touch but he'd never expected anything so intense. Henry repeated the movement, this time with more force, and Fish couldn’t stop the involuntary arching of his back as another blissful cry escaped his lips. His hands flew out to the sides, fisting the sheets.

It was incredible, nothing like Fish had ever experienced. During his “research,” Fish and watched plenty of gay porn, often rolling his eyes as the bottoming actors had let out squeal after squeal punctuated by, what he assumed, were fake cries of delight. Now those same wonton noises were coming from him and he barely recognised his own voice as he began to babble, “Oh God… Henry… God… Oh God… please… don't stop… Henry… don't… don’t…d…d…”

All he could focus on was how good it felt and how he never wanted it to end. His balls began to tighten and he didn’t fight it, not realising that neither he nor Henry had ever touched his straining erection. He also didn’t notice how he’d started to thrust himself back onto Henry’s fingers or that at some point Henry had added a third.

Those three fingers were removed and Fish felt so empty that he let out a keen at the loss.

“Fuck! Don’t stop!” he begged. “Don’t stop!”

Henry leaned over him, capturing his mouth in a deep but gentle kiss. Fish felt the blunt head of Henry’s cock brushing against him. It pressed gently against his opening, the wet and ready hole tightening in anticipation.

“Oh God,” Fish gasped. The thought of Henry's cock thrusting into that bundle of nerves within him while he came all over himself was driving him mad.

“Henry… Please…”

Fish inhaled sharply as he felt pressure as Henry pressed forward, but then immediately eased back. He whimpered and opened his eyes, wordlessly pleading. Green locked with hazel and Henry slowly entered him.

"GUAH!” Fish cried out as both his hands gripped the sheets again, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Sparks and bolts of pleasure were shooting up through his body. But there was also pain. A deep burn lanced through him along with a sharp stinging sensation. He inhaled sharply and planted a hand against Henry’s chest.

Henry froze. “Joe?”

“Stings,” he breathed.

After adding more lube, Henry started again. “Breathe, Joe.”

Fish tried to force the air in and out of his lungs but all he could concentrate on was the fullness and the burning stretch. He wasn’t sure how long had passed but Henry’s hips finally rested against his own. Fish’s legs were spread wide and he had another man’s dick in his arse. He had never been in a more intimate embrace.

“Joe? Are you all right?” Henry asked with soft concern.

"I'm fine, Henry. Move… please…"

Henry pulled back, nearly withdrawing fully and Fish whimpered at the loss. When he sank back down, his angle was perfect. The head of Henry’s cock slid right into and over Fish’s prostate. Fish’s fingers dug painfully into Henry’s waist as his head flew back in a wordless scream as a waterfall of pleasure crashed over his body. His other hand windmilled up to Henry’s shoulder, gripping it like iron.

"GAH!" Fish cried.

"We're stopping this right now," Henry said, worried.

When Henry started to withdraw, Fish pulled him back, gasping, “Don’t you fucking dare! Oh God… that felt so good…"

Fish bucked upwards and Henry kissed him as he set a slow and gentle rhythm. He continued to moan and groan, lewd noises escaping that Fish didn’t believe were coming from his own mouth.

"Joe… " Henry said huskily into his ear. He sped up, thrusting faster and harder and Fish's vision blurred.

The babbling resumed. “Fuck… Ah! Holy shit… There! Right fucking there… d… don't… d… Henry… I… I…" Fish trailed off, stammering, unable to even form words.

Fish’s climax was perilously close. He barely registered the fact that his cock was still completely untouched. Each thrust was bringing him closer and closer. He forced his eyes open, looking down at where his body met Henry's. He watched transfixed as Henry's cock disappeared into him again and again. His own cock bounced against his belly, fucking dead air. The pre-come oozing from the tip glistened in the dim light, dripping onto the hair below adding to the small pool. A distant portion of his brain noted that he’d never leaked this much before.

"You feel so good…" Henry moaned into his ear. "Joe…"

Again, he tried to thrust more forcefully. He let out a low moan and Fish screamed as his muscles went weak and he lost his grip on Henry’s shoulders.

"Please… Henry… oh God… OH GOD… oh God… oh…. I… I… " His world shrank down to the feel of Henry's cock sliding in and out of him, the sound of Henry's balls slapping his arse, and the love overflowing in his heart. Henry increased his pace again and with one sharp snap of Henry's hips, Fish's world whited out and he went tumbling over the edge.

“Oh fuck… oh Fuck… OH Fuck… FUCK!”

The profane litany began and continued as his cock spasmed, spraying ropes of come across his belly and chest. Henry's cock continued to impact with his overly sensitized prostate, blurring the line between pleasure and pain. He was so dizzy and faint that, for a minute, Fish was afraid he would pass out.

"Joe… I'm going to come… oh God…" Henry gasped. "Oh God! JOE!"

With a sharp grunt, Henry pulsed his release into him and Fish felt a surge of moisture. The new sensation of hot come flooding him made his eyes go wide. After a few wet thrusts, Henry sagged onto him, burying his face in his neck.

"I love you, Joe," he whispered, running his lips over Fish's face and neck.

"I love you too," Fish gasped, barely able to breathe. _Christ, what the fuck have I been missing out on…_

Henry settled against him, nuzzling his neck and lazily kissing every inch skin he could without moving. They both laid there for a long while, lazily kissing and whispering words of love.

Because of the dull ache in his arse, Fish barely felt Henry slip from him but he did feel the rush of come that followed it as it dripped down his skin and onto the sheets below. Even the mess of it felt wonderful. His eyes still closed, he felt a chill as Henry stood. A few moments later, he felt a warm, damp flannel moving over his skin, cleaning him gently. Ever the male stereotype, Fish could feel himself drifting off, sleep almost capturing him but the dip of the bed brought him back.

He tugged Henry into his arms and said, with a weak smile, “Fuck, we should have done this sooner.”

Henry chuckled. "I don't know how much sooner you think we could have done this, you've been here barely a week."

Fish chuckled back at him and then tilted his head to look down at Henry. "Why didn't you tell me it would be so amazing? It was more than amazing, Henry, that was completely mind-blowing."

"As I've said already, Joe, I didn't think it was something you would want nor is it my preference."

"Well I hope you won't mind indulging me once in a while then," Fish said. Remembering the intensity of the experience, he shivered. "Probably more than once in a while."

"Whenever you wish, love," Henry said, kissing Fish gently. "How are you feeling, Joe? Are you in any pain?"

"I may never walk right again," Fish joked.

Henry gave him a startled look.

"Not in a bad way, Henry," Fish said as he ran his fingers through Henry's hair.

Henry continued to stare at him, seriously.

"Okay, I'm a bit sore but I'm fine. It's a good sore." He kissed the top of Henry's head. “I’m fine. Better than fine.” He ran his fingers down Henry’s cheek. “Like a first time all over again.”

“I hope it wasn’t bad for a first time,” Henry said, softly.

“It was perfect,” Fish said, the sleep in his voice profound. “I love you.”

Henry replied the same and then started speaking, telling him some story. Fish was barely registering the words. He wasn’t even sure it was a story or what his lover was saying because he was plummeting into sleep and nothing could stop him.

 


	20. Chapter 20

For the second day in a row, Fish woke up alone. Frowning, he realised he’d fallen asleep in the middle of their post-coital cuddle. He got out of bed and became acutely aware of the more significant ache in his muscles and arse. It made him smile as he put on his tracksuit bottoms and went in search of his lover. Just like the day before, he found him in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Henry had all the makings of a fry up in front of him. It appears he'd only just started cooking. Fish went up behind his lover and put his arms around him. Actually, Henry hadn't started cooking at all. The pan in front of his lover was empty.

"You should have woke me. I don't like waking up without you.”

"Sap," Henry teased. "I was going to wake you when I was done."

“I’m sorry I fell asleep on you last night.”

Henry turned off the burner and turned himself around to face Fish properly, putting his arms around his neck. He looked, concerned. “Think nothing of it, Joe, I took it as a compliment. How are you this morning?"

 

"I'm not made of glass, Henry. I'm fine." Fish brought his hand up and ran his fingers through Henry's hair. He smiled softly, touched by his lover's concern. Remembering last night sent a surge of desire through him. It had been the most intense sexual experience of his life. "Last night was amazing. You were amazing." 

Henry smiled. "I'm glad you found it so… but tonight it's my turn." 

"I may fight you on that and why wait for tonight?" Fish said. He led Henry a respectable distance away from the hot stove and pushed him into the counter. "I want you… Take me again, Henry…"

Fish latched his lips onto Henry's neck and sucked hard.

"Me first," Henry whispered back. 

Fish let out a growl of frustration. He pushed Henry face down onto the counter and lifted his t-shirt up, kissing down his spine. He gave the loose pyjama bottoms a shove and they fell away from his lover's hips. Fish reached around, teasing Henry's erection with his fingers - just enough to tantalize. 

"You're infuriating," Henry gasped. He pounded his closed fist into the counter. 

"You love it," Fish chuckled. He let out a snarl when his mobile began ringing. And for the first time since he joined Torchwood, Joseph Fischer ignored it. 

"Your mobile…"

"Shut up, Henry," Fish barked. He turned Henry around, pulling his t-shirt up over his head. "I don't hear a bloody thing."

Henry wasn't going to argue as Fish ran his thumbs over his nipples and sank to his knees in front of him. Henry reached out his hand for the mobile just as Fish's mouth engulfed him. It fell out of his fingers and went clattering to the floor, still ringing and vibrating as he let out a blissful cry. He gripped the countertop, his knees weakening. 

Fish eased Henry's foot up onto his shoulder. He slid his fingers up into his mouth next to Henry's cock, coating them. Henry's head fell back as he felt those fingers begin breaching him. His knees nearly gave way again and he let out another scream when Fish increased his suction. Once again, Henry was questioning Fish's honesty. _Someone else, surely, he is far too--_  

The thought broke off as Henry saw stars. Fish's strong fingers had found his prostate and Henry screamed again. The muscles in his legs started to quiver as his orgasm approached. He looked down and nearly came from the sight alone. It was one of the most erotic things Henry had ever seen - Fish's swollen lips wrapped around him while he stroked himself furiously. 

Fish increased his efforts and Henry's eyes slid closed. He twisted his fingers, crooking them just _so_ and and this time Henry's knees did give way as he came with a shout. Henry was so lost in the force of his own climax that he barely noticed the muffled shout Fish let out around his cock or the wet splat of come hitting the tile floor as Fish pulsed out his own release. Panting, Fish sat back, wiping his lip. Henry slid to the floor with a thud and a slight squish, his backside landing in the come, slipping a bit on the wet tile. He was so utterly boneless, he hardly cared. 

"Are you certain you've never done that before?" Henry gasped. 

"Well not specifically that," Fish said with a smile. He looked around. "I feel like doing this in the kitchen is a bit unhygienic…" 

He got up and washed his hands, handing Henry some dampened paper towels. 

"You started this, Joe," Henry said with a laugh as he wiped himself and the kitchen floor. He stood up so he could wash his own hands at the sink. 

Fish's mobile began vibrating on the tiles again. 

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Fish snapped, bending to pick up the mobile. He looked at the caller ID. _Evie?_ Annoyed, he connected the call, tucking the phone between his shoulder and his ear so his hands were free. He kissed Henry's shoulder gently, putting his arms around him. He wanted drag Henry off back to bed… and not leave the bedroom until tomorrow.

He snapped into his mobile, "For fuck's sake, Evie, I'm busy…" 

"Very busy…" Henry said, loud enough so Miranda could hear him through the phone. 

Henry kissed along Fish's shoulder and felt the muscle beneath the skin tense. He looked up and watched as Fish's expression changed from confusion, to alarm, to disappointment and then to anguish. The worse Fish's expression became, the more he backed away from his lover. 

"Joe?" 

Fish held up his hand and shook his head, continuing to listen. He swallowed a few times as Miranda continued. Henry's own anxiety began to rise as he saw tears begin to collect in his lover's eyes. 

Grim, Fish said, "I'll be on the next flight… How is Jack holding up?… And Rhys?… Okay… Right… Yeah… I'll see you soon, Evie…" 

Fish disconnected the call and gave Henry a grim look. "Gwen and Ianto are in hospital. I need to fly back to Cardiff as soon as possible." 

"Will they be all right? What's happened?" Henry gasped. 

"Ianto's in a bad way. Gwen's better," Fish said as he dialed the airline to change his ticket… again. 

"Let me do that, Joe," Henry said, taking his mobile from him. "Go and pack." 

Fish nodded. He'd been afraid from the moment he'd gotten here that something would happen to force him back to Cardiff. He'd thought it would be some technical emergency or some gigantic rift spike. He'd never imagined that Gwen nor Ianto would be injured! He frantically began packing his belongings fighting back tears. Ianto was just shy of his twenty ninth birthday. He was over ten years younger than Fish. He was too young… he and Jack had had so little time together… Fish pictured Jack, sitting beside Ianto's hospital bed and the image broke his heart. Suddenly that image changed… Fish was in the hospital bed and Henry was the man weeping beside it.

He'd been dreading the idea that he would lose his field clearance, that he would be forced behind a desk at Torchwood or MiB. If everything went his way when he returned to Cardiff, the specialist would say his knee need only physiotherapy and Fish would be able to continue his field work. Henry was hoping for exactly the opposite outcome, perhaps not that his lover's knee required surgery, but that Fish would be forced out of the field. It would mean he would remain safe so they could have more time together, that Fish would not die young. 

It was that moment that brought clarity to Fish. He wanted nothing more than for Henry to stop looking at him with grief. It was in his hands to help that along. Compromise. He had to compromise. It had been an open mind that had brought Henry into his life. It would be an open mind that would keep him there. Fish finally understood that it didn't matter what the specialist said about his knee. He needed to cut back on his field missions. They were the most dangerous aspect of his job. He needed to take a step back towards why Jack had originally hired him - as a technician and field backup. He wasn't happy about it, he could feel himself resisting the decision already. Then Fish closed his eyes, remembering something his father had once said to him. _Joey, in a true compromise, neither side is ever happy with it._  

He looked up, startled at Henry's hand on his arm. 

"I'll send on anything you forget, Joe," Henry said, handing him his mobile. "You don't have to rush. You have time. Your flight is in four hours. It was the best I could do. I sent the information on to Mao-Lin." 

Fish sat down heavily on his side of the bed. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Some sort of bloody plant got them. You want to know the worst fucking part? The plant was in _our hothouse_. They were shifting some of the plants around and one of them sprayed the room with some sort of thick spore. Ianto saved Gwen's life… pushed her out of the hothouse and shut himself in. She only got a small amount but Ianto got a face full… he had to lean over the bloody thing to activate the exhaust system. Evie said he's critical - something about his airway swelling and fluid in his lungs. I don't understand when she babbles on in all that medical bollocks. She said he's on a ventilator, he can't breathe on his own." 

Henry swallowed and wondered whether or not the death would be enough to trigger the Welshman's immortality. It was certainly unnatural but it wasn't what Henry would consider violent. He couldn't confide any of that to Fish. Fish was also wracked with guilt that he couldn't express to Henry. It had been his week to take care of the alien plants but he was in Vancouver. It should have been him in that hothouse… 

"I'm sorry I have to go…" Fish said, reaching out for Henry's hand. 

"Don't apologise, love," Henry said, sitting down next to him. "We still have some time…" 

"Yeah, we do. How about we make the most of it?" Fish said, pulling Henry into his arms. "Shower?" 

"That was about to be my suggestion," Henry said with a wicked grin. 

The two men headed for the en suite, the trip taking far longer than it should have as they stopped to shed clothing and kiss. Henry turned on the hot spray. Once they were under the water, they took their time - drawing their foreplay out. Henry took so much delight in making go practically mad. 

"I want you so fucking bad…" Fish murmured into Henry's skin. 

"All yours," Henry said, playfully. 

He turned around and planted his palms on the tile. He reached up to the top shelf of the corner shower caddy and took down a small bottle of oil. Smiling, Fish uncapped the bottle and squirted some onto his fingers. 

"Do you keep lube stashed everywhere?" Fish teased. 

Henry let out a small laugh, the warm sound echoed off the tiles. Fish leaned against his back, their bodies slotting together perfectly. Fish let his hand drift down to Henry's arse. He slid his oiled fingers up into his lover, preparing him thoroughly. To Henry preparation had always been nothing more than a tool of necessity. Now that Joe Fischer was sharing his bed, that had changed. Fish had managed to change the necessity into something that made him feel loved and cared for. Henry decided he owed Jack more than a drink… he owed the man a whole bottle. Every brush of Fish's fingers sent wave after wave of love and joy through him. Henry's hands gripped the tile and the sound of moans echoed in the stall. 

"Joe… please…" Henry begged, his own desire at near bursting. He backed up, grinding his arse backwards onto Fish's hand. 

Fish got the message. He poured a generous amount of the oil onto himself and began teasing the crack of Henry's arse with the head of his cock.

"Get on with it!" Henry barked. 

"Patience…" Fish said, trying to keep the sadness out of his voice and failing. "Slowly… I want to do this slowly… Please…" 

Henry heard the sadness in his lover's voice. 

"I love you, Joe," Henry said softly. _I'll see you soon…_  

"I love you too," he replied. _I'm going to miss you, Henry…_  

Henry took a deep breath, reaching behind him to drag Fish in for a slow kiss. As their tongues massaged each other, Fish pressed forward, penetrating his lover with an aching slowness. 

These first moments were the most intimate for Fish. That first feeling of velvety heat as Henry welcomed him into his body made Fish feel trusted and loved. He always liked to take these moments slowly but now he was holding back even more. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he could feel his knees threatening to give way. 

"Oh God…" he gasped. 

Henry turned his head to give Fish an awkward kiss. Fish kept to a gentle rhythm, making love to Henry slowly, drowning himself in the feel of Henry wrapped around him. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Henry's chest so he could pull Henry into him. He wasn't facing Henry but being pressed flush into Henry's body felt deeply intimate. Fish slowed his movements further, trying to burn this into his memory. 

"I love you so much, Henry," he whispered. 

"I love you too." 

He never tired of hearing those words from Henry's lips and he never tired of saying them but this time tears stung his eyes. Again, the declaration of love hadn't sounded like one… it still sounded like 'I'll miss you…'. He snaked his other hand down Henry's side, curling it around Henry's cock and immediately felt Henry's own hand join his. The two of them moved as one, the dance becoming familiar between them. Henry reached back, resting his other hand behind Fish's neck, drawing his lover in closer. 

Over the sound of the shower spray, Fish could hear Henry moaning his name over and over again. The muscles of Henry's legs were starting to quiver, he could tell he was close. Fish smiled against Henry's back. He was starting to learn his lover's body as well as he knew his own. He added a slight twist to his stroke and Henry's fingers dug into his skin.

"AH! JOE!" he cried out. 

Henry's cock was spasming in Fish's hand. The hot come was spraying the tiles, the cascading water washing it away immediately. Fish let out a low moan as he felt Henry's muscles contract around him. That moan turned into a blissful shout as his whole body went rigid. 

"HENRY!" Fish screamed. He pulsed his release into Henry deeply, thrusting hard into the other man as his vision blurred. He slowed, trying to draw out their mutual climax as long as possible. With shaky breath, Fish hugged Henry close. Despite the languid pace, Fish was panting and his knees were actually trembling. He lazily kissed the top of Henry's back. The tears pricking his eyes finally spilled over. They ran down his cheeks, mixing with the shower spray and dripped onto Henry's back. Fish was grateful the water hid his tears. Henry turned, letting Fish's softened cock slip from him so he could put his arms around his lover properly. The two of them stood there for a long while, silent in each other's arms until the water began to run cold, driving them from the shower stall. 

They collapsed onto the bed, still damp from the shower. Henry was in Fish's arms, running his fingers through the hair on his chest. Their legs were tangled together. Neither of them said anything. Each man just clung to the other, their hands lazily running over their bodies. 

"I was wrong, Henry," Fish said, softly. 

"About what, love?" Henry asked. 

"Getting married," Fish admitted. 

Henry pushed himself up onto his elbow. He looked at Fish with so much love in his eyes. "Are you asking, Joe?" 

Fish's heart threatened to melt at that look. He wanted to ask but something inside him was feeling selfish. He smiled and ran his fingers through Henry's hair. "Honestly, I've done that bit already-" 

"-and this time you would like to be asked?" Henry finished for him, a grin spreading across his face.  

"I expect you to make a proper fuss," Fish mockingly scolded. "I'm a respectable bloke." 

Henry's playful grin widened. "I shall have to begin giving it some serious thought. I've never proposed marriage before." 

"Well good luck surprising me," Fish warned with a smile. 

Henry let out a small laugh, settling back against Fish's chest. He accepted that challenge. He would arrange a spectacular proposal. He fiddled with the ring on his finger. He'd get a similar ring made for Fish, of course, with his own fingerprint on it. He wondered if he snooped in his lover's Cardiff flat if he could find the receipt… 

"I'm going to miss you," Fish said in a soft whisper. "You're my whole world, Henry." 

The profound sadness in Fish's voice brought Henry out of his musings. He held onto Fish tighter, shaking him a bit. 

"Shhh, love," Henry replied. "No goodbyes. Not yet."

Henry felt Fish's chest tremor slightly. 

"I love you so much…" Fish breathed, his voice wavering. 

Henry heard tears beginning and that he couldn't have. He sat up and kissed Fish gently. He sighed and glanced at the clock. He opened the bedside table drawer and handed Fish an envelope he'd hidden there. 

"You say that you are difficult to surprise but I believe that this will suffice. It was to be a surprise but I do not want you to leave so sad, not if I can prevent it." 

Without sitting up, Fish slit the envelope open with his finger. It was a plane ticket. He squinted at the lettering and held the ticket a bit further away from his eyes. 

"I already have my ticket, Henry," Fish said, confused. 

"It's for me, love," Henry said, smiling. 

"You're coming to visit?" Fish's expression brightened at the thought. 

Henry shook his head. He tapped the ticket. "No, Joe. It's one way. I'm coming to stay." 

The tears that had begun to collect in Fish's eyes changed to tears of joy. The ticket was for Wednesday. 

"This is why you changed my ticket to Wednesday!" Fish exclaimed. 

Henry nodded, smiling. "Now that the show is over, I need only pack and ship my things." 

Fish rolled on top of Henry, pressing him into the bed. He began devouring his lover's mouth, kissing him in between words. 

"I love you, Henry…" 

"And I you, Joe," Henry replied in between kisses. He flicked his gaze to the clock and his heart sank a bit. They needed to leave for the aeroport soon. But that didn't seem to be part of Fish's plan. His lover's fingers and mouth were doing positively decadent things to Henry at the moment, interrupting his ability to think. 

"Joe…" 

"Shut up, Henry." 

Henry Fitzroy decided to live in the moment and firmly shut the clock and passage of time out of his thoughts. 


End file.
